The Remnant Prince
by Lithia Sunset
Summary: What does a dying Hermione Granger do when she awakens to greet destiny in her hospital room? Naryu(AU/OOC)-a compassionate & curious creature of the immortal race known as Sylph. Fárbauti- a woman swindled into being Queen.  Loki- a conflicted prince: what occurs that saves him from his own dark prophecy & makes it all relevant?  Free will, love, and a bit of magic, maybe?
1. Marked

**A Disclaimer Charm has been cast!**

**The_ Harry Potter_ universe belongs to J.K. Rowling, and the _Avengers_ and all Marvel-verse/ all respective explicable ideas or opinions expressed or implied that seem familiar with or are affiliated with to such are trademark and/or copyright of Marvel and/or J.K. Rowling. _TDB_ and all explicable or affiliated characters, concepts, or ideas are copyright and trademark to InTheAsylum and all associated aliases of said writer-author-animator. Any and all other ideas, concepts, opinions or characters that seem familiar remain in complete domain of their respective parties. This begins before Marvel's _Thor_ and extends into the plot horizon past _the Avengers_. There is a time difference between Hermione's dimension and Asgard. Hermione's Midgard is slightly skewed so that it resembles a ratio of her year being many compared to the other Midgards and Asgard itself, as the timelines differ **_somewhat_**. _TDB_ is AU but the events of HP verse and Marvel movie verse should be roughly of not thoroughly followed. _Naryu_ is OOC and it will again be stated that said character, along with _Alosa_, belong to InTheAsylum and all associated aliases. _Any_ newly introduced material including but not limited to characters, concepts, opinions, ideas, dimensions or universes that do not seem familiar or belong to another entity entirely are respective owned material of said Author-Writer-Poet Lithia Sunset and all associated aliases. **

_The duration of this charm cannot be tampered with and is long lasting._

**Now, without further ado..."Once Upon a Time", or "In the Beginnig" or whatever...**

_**Ps: **__**Rewritten and added to, and then fixed on site as of 8 of August, 2013, Wednesday.**_

_****__**PSS: I just realized I lied. HP and the Avengers may be slightly AU, at leasts in some small respects.**_

_**PPSS: Revisions have been made to the early chapters of this, and as such the use of quotes throughout the chapters has been utilized, the original chapter encompassing starters stripped. The guessing game is as follows, as explained in later chapters, along with a few other pointers:**_

Instead of placing a main chapter quote, I have inserted quotes in the text, which will be bolded, and have a ~ symbol beside of it for anyone whose device(s) will not make the bolding show up. The "fun" if you will, is in guessing or figuring out where the quotes come from. They're from many diverse fandoms, although I admit some I may use throughout this story may just be quotes. But, but, that I will try to avoid. The point of views are obvious to me, but I wrote them, so if anything is ever confusing, please PM me, and please PM me if you see any revisions that need to be made in spelling, grammar, etc., and I'll let you know if anything that seems ridiculous was supposed to be that way or if it's an honest mistake.

_**A few other things: If any part of a ****quote** is underlined, it means that part of the quote had to be altered slightly to make sense in a particular situation._

* * *

**The Remnant Prince~**

_**Act 1 ~ Along Came A Spider **_

Advice to a Prophet  
By Richard Wilbur

When you come, as you soon must, to the streets of our city,  
Mad-eyed from stating the obvious,  
Not proclaiming our fall but begging us  
In God's name to have self-pity,

Spare us all word of the weapons, their force and range,  
The long numbers that rocket the mind;  
Our slow, unreckoning hearts will be left behind,  
Unable to fear what is too strange.

Nor shall you scare us with talk of the death of the race.  
How should we dream of this place without us?—  
The sun mere fire, the leaves untroubled about us,  
A stone look on the stone's face?

Speak of the world's own change. Though we cannot conceive  
Of an undreamt thing, we know to our cost  
How the dreamt cloud crumbles, the vines are blackened by frost,  
How the view alters. We could believe,

If you told us so, that the white-tailed deer will slip  
Into perfect shade, grown perfectly shy,  
The lark avoid the reaches of our eye,  
The jack-pine lose its knuckled grip

On the cold ledge, and every torrent burn  
As Xanthus once, its gliding trout  
Stunned in a twinkling. What should we be without  
The dolphin's arc, the dove's return,

These things in which we have seen ourselves and spoken?  
Ask us, prophet, how we shall call  
Our natures forth when that live tongue is all  
Dispelled, that glass obscured or broken

In which we have said the rose of our love and the clean  
Horse of our courage, in which beheld  
The singing locust of the soul unshelled,  
And all we mean or wish to mean.

Ask us, ask us whether with the worldless rose  
Our hearts shall fail us; come demanding  
Whether there shall be lofty or long standing  
When the bronze annals of the oak-tree close.

**_Prologue: Marked_**

_**JOTUNHEIM**_

Fárbauti stared pensively out of the window, watching fresh snow flakes drift past. She gasped, her hand flying to her round belly. Her son would be due soon, any day. She hated Jotunheim almost to the point of passion. Ever since her mistaken tryst with Laufey, she had had to remain. He had tricked her, assuring her he was as benign as she with his deeds. She hated him indeed.

Then he had had the audacity to lock her in the tower, insisting travel could injure the baby growing steadily inside of her womb.

He had wanted an heir. Badly. She didn't know what kind of magic he had used on her, but every particle of her essence writhed with hatred-for him, for his trickery, for making her more receptive to conceiving, for romancing her at all. She sighed. If only the stars had not still been so muddled, perhaps she could have...no. There was no way she could have foreseen what she had.

She mourned for her son. ~**An invisible barrier separated him from the rest of the world. He was - he had always been a marked man. **And even though it broke her heart, she realized he always would be.  
"My child," she croaked, stroking her taught, ballooning abdomen tenderly, "~**The consequences of our actions are so complicated, so diverse, that predicting the future is a very difficult business indeed. **I am sorry that I failed you."

* * *

**_Adjacent Dimension: Alternate Midgard,  
London, England, 15 April 1979_**

"How about Hermione?"  
"How'd you know what I was thinking, Benji," Jean Granger said suspiciously.  
"_'Open previous web session'_, or something along those lines," he replied with a straight face.  
"But it was also on my list. Do you really like it?"  
Jean exhaled through her nose.  
"It sounds intelligent enough, certainly. Educated. Refined."  
Benjamin leaned over the back of the couch to kiss her on the cheek. "I couldn't agree more."

She held him there. "Two miscarriages, Benji. _Two miscarriages._ I have never made it this far along...I'm afraid to _breath_ wrong."  
He stilled, exhaling quietly into her hair.  
"Stress free environment this time around," he murmured, "and I'm going to make every moment of this pregnancy be a vacation for you."  
Jean sobbed, turning her face into his neck. He slid an awkward arm around her.

"Shhh, it's all right," he soothed. "Everything will be."

* * *

Something wasn't right, she could sense it. The others slept onward peacefully, or Watched elsewhere, but Naryu twitched with impatience, squirmed in its ungodly grasp, and felt something inherently _bad_ happening. She cast about for the reason. Suddenly _his_ face swam into focus, eyes brilliant prisms of gray specked teal, a faint sheen about him and his hair slightly ruffled, the smirk falling as he whispered, _"Bad magic happens, Naryu."  
_  
Then came the actual falling. Naryu screamed, never having been so terrified of death as she was floundering and fishtailing helplessly in the dark, hearing _things_ chatter at every turn. The blackness was so absolute, so much so that she only just recognized the pale, scarred hand that was outstretched upward in her line of sight, as if having let something slip from the grasp of those long, dexterous fingers. Loki's hand. There was a pulsing in the bleak dark below, and she felt his fear as the open dimensional rift, possibly closed off with only one way in and out, loomed ever near.  
_"Bad magic happens,"_ another voice repeated in a whisper. _"Bad things happen."_

Naryu's eyes opened in a quick whiplash of movement, her body snapping into an erect position. Her heart thundered in her ribcage. It wasn't the first vision she had had of him, that Loki, whoever he was. She pressed her hand over her heart, as if the pressure would slow its steady march.

All Sylph were as mischievous by nature as they were attracted to things of deep and hidden beauty, like magpies with shiny coins. They knew things by touch alone at times, and could tell automatically when a being of another race was lying. Between each other, the small deceptions and slights of hand didn't matter. They were impish and amused by worthwhile antics, sometimes of chaos, but never anything extreme or truly harmful. They all watched through the windows into the Otherworlds out of curiosity, and heckled, played or teased the inhabitants, but Naryu, yet a youngling that appeared as a child, was the only one who could see each possible future of any one world she cared to glance into. She often became fixated for long hours, staring into the murky depths of the windows, and more often than not she would meddle, change a fate. The others always asked why she bothered, creeping her magic into what they saw as worthless investments, why not let the mortals and immortals of other places have their own fate if they were not of their own, but she couldn't stop caring.

She relaxed, running her hand through her tousled blonde hair, pulling the band off of the end of what had been a ponytail. She sprang up abruptly, slipping outside and walking down the Viewing Isle, also known as the Bridge or Hall of Windows, placing her hand against each jagged square expanse, just feeling. The burning tingling sensation of the next she slid her palm onto jarred her body to a distinct halt. The aura of it all was unmistakable. The Loki she dreamed of would be in that World's future. She peered deeper, seeing it had nine interconnected Realms, each with varying neighboring planets and solar systems, quite a few alternate timelines and thirteen different dimensions.

A wave of nausea rolled over her, alerting her to another, waking vision. The visions weren't pretty and wrapped in a precise present box like everyone seemed to think if one was awake. Everything was garbled as if underwater, muffled and echoing, sometimes disjointed and repetitive. What she saw wasn't though. What she saw was the Loki she always had, with a mortal girl whose brown eyes blazed intensely and whose hair refused to be tamed, with a spirit and tongue sharp enough to cut steel.  
"Hermione...," he began, looking at the girl, but the rest burbled away, replaced by horrors...Naryu winced. His unhappy, lonely life flashed through her mind rapidly. She watched as he spiraled into insanity in more than one future, some where he had met the girl and still lost himself, some where he was driven mad by grief at her death, all having to do with a damned prophecy or two, and concealment, and having no one and no guidance or company for so many years. Then another clicked into place as well. Loki was not and had not been alone there. No, he had had a friend...once, who showed up as a shadowy someone, an only friend who had, in his eyes, betrayed him...the outcome was almost much the same, until that thread split in two, the latter blurring when it came to the "friend" entirely. Naryu's head split with it, a migraine pounding through her skull.

_"Bad Magic happens..."_

"Naryu?"  
She couldn't respond for worry she might start wailing. It always happened with her: her sight always spiraling sporadically out of fluctuation and control, her flawed gift, so that each and every sorrow and sob story intermingled and nearly killed her. At first it would only be the grief of who she sought, but most of the time, if she let it deepen as she just had, suddenly the sorrow of that World's entirety would crush her. She had to stare for hours, gleaning from shallow pools of knowledge lest what was happening to her happen. She couldn't protect herself from the searing, even as she felt someone cradle her head. Gasping, she opened her eyes after a fashion, finding Alosa to be staring down at her.

"V-vision..." she coughed weakly. His violet eyes narrowed. "A first one brought thou here."  
Their kind's truth-knowing of each other by touch rendered her incapable of lying at that moment.  
"Yes," she gasped.  
"Visions happen because of personal connections and personal fate," he told her seriously.  
"Thou dost always feel pain because thou always meddle, and always make something thy mess."

"This...came...out of nowhere...sleep..."  
He hummed quietly, insistently, pushing the memories and visions to the back of her mind and sealing the lot up as if it never happened. Her eyes unfocused and she shuddered. Her body lay limp momentarily, then with a gasp, she blinked sleepily up at Alosa.  
"Wherefore am I here?" she murmured. Alosa shrugged.  
"Thou tell me."  
She smiled sleepily at him, head lolling to the side in slumber. He stood, carrying her back to the nursery, not knowing that he had sealed her personal destiny tie with Loki, and that no matter what he did, she would plunge after Loki Laufeyson and fight when it seemed no one else would.

Not even Loki.

* * *

**A/N: Naryu is important. I think I mentioned this started before the events of _Thor_? Don't be disappointed. Everyone's favorite insufferable know-it-all is here! But I find starting in childhoods or at or before the beginning to be enchanting. Don't lose focus. Next chapter has Loki, and all POVs will be third limited and switch around. You, darlings, won't have to wait long for a chapter from the eyes of Loki or Hermione. And watch out for the Knargles; they like this place even though I keep spraying.**


	2. The Changeling

**The Remnant Prince**

**Reminder/AN:**

_**# Rewritten and added to, and then fixed on site as of 8 of August, 2013, Wednesday.**_

_**# I just realized I lied. HP and the Avengers may be slightly AU, at leasts in some small respects.**_

_**#See later chapters for the ~ and bolded explanation of certain parts of the text. Refer to AN's in chapters 4 and/or 5.**_

_**Thank you.**_

* * *

_Ch.1: The Changeling_

Will these wings,  
Take me far?  
Will these dreams,  
Light up the dark?  
Aren't you afraid you'd forget them?  
Live life as if you were condemned.  
So will you lend me,  
A piece of your memory?  
I need you.  
So please don't forget me,  
Cause you're the only memory I have  
-Mikaela DLC

Fárbauti cradled her baby close to her, glaring at Laufey as he stood in the doorway.  
"_Get out_," she hissed. His crimson eyes roved downward to study the infant in her arms. His nose wrinkled. "How...disappointing, and..._puny_," he sneered, stepping into the room.  
"He's _perfect_," Fárbauti spat acidly. Laufey smirked superciliously.  
"By wretched Sylph or Elf standards, perhaps," he sneered maliciously. "I'll have him drowned later, after I conquer the Realms."

He left to her screams and screeches of protest, slamming the door and sending the lock in place. Fárbauti fell against her pillows. Her eyes shifted to a stormy gray.  
"I'll protect thee, my son," she whispered. She stroked his cheek lovingly, maneuvering out of bed and heaving onto her feet with a groan. She swayed, pulling her baby's essence into her own and shifting into mist to flow out of the window.

As soon as the ground was close enough, she expanded into her own skin, drawing her son out. It was freezing. The fire in their blood warmed them somewhat, but it wouldn't for long. Pulling the thin gown and robe closer, she trudged through the snow slowly until the temple came into view.

She struggled a moment with the heavy door. She was weak, and she had lost a lot of blood. She stumbled toward the foot of the alter, falling to her knees. The baby whimpered. Fárbauti's eyes flickered to regard him. His skin and eyes were as blue and red, respectively, as his fathers. He gurgled at her, watching her as she ripped her robe and gown, tearing off strips to help swaddle him. She moved the snow, forming a nest out of it and lining it with rags and another strip of her robe.

Laying him in the midst, she splayed her hands out above him. Protective and love magic pulsed into a web around him. He eyed the golden threads of the net until they vanished.  
**~"By kindest intent it is done,"** she murmured, "**and only by kindest intent can it be undone**. No one may harm thee, or remove thee from this sanctuary, unless it is with caring, compassion, or love."

She made him unseen until the event of a spell breaker. He was calmly regarding her, eyes wide. Like her, he had not received the tell-tale rings. She began crooning to him softly, until his eyelids drooped closed and his breathing slowed and evened:

_"The sky is dark and the hills are white_  
_As the storm-king speeds from the north to-night;_  
_And this is the song the storm-king sings,_  
_As over the world his cloak he flings:_  
_'Sleep, sleep, little one, sleep;'_  
_He rustles his wings and gruffly sings:_  
_'Sleep, little one, sleep.'_

_On yonder mountain-side a vine_  
_Clings at the foot of a mother pine;_  
_The tree bends over the trembling thing,_  
_And only the vine can hear her sing:_  
_'Sleep, sleep, little one, sleep;_  
_What shall you fear when I am here?_  
_Sleep, little one, sleep.'_

_The king may sing in his bitter flight,_  
_The pine may croon to the vine to-night,_  
_But the little snowflake at my breast_  
_Liketh the song I sing the best,-_  
_'Sleep, sleep, little one, sleep;_  
_Weary thou art, anext my heart;_  
_Sleep, little one, sleep.'"_

Staggering upward, Fárbauti leaned into the wall, summoning strength to make a window. There was someone she needed to warn. With shaking hands raised, she used them to form a rectangle. A colorful, jagged window opened before her, lightening seeming to streak in the depths. She scrambled through, shattering the connection. She collapsed, panting, in the middle of a long hallway.

The cool floor pressed against her cheek, she lay there for a few minutes. Right up until a spear prodded her in her back.  
"Make no sudden moves, Jotunn spy," an authoritative male voice commanded.  
"I am neither a spy nor a Jotunn-I am Fárbauti," she gasped.  
" Fárbauti is the known name of the consort of Laufey," the voice challenged gruffly.  
"He has not my heart nor my love," she snarled.  
"Yet you bore his heir of late?"

Fárbauti shifted into mist, reforming a few feet away. She held her head high, chin jutting outward.  
"I did not come to play games, Odin All-father," she said, "I have news. News of war."

"Oh?" Odin said, straightening. "And what would thou like in return?"  
"Spiting Laufey is enough," Fárbauti said, the strength of her voice surprising her, "~**but I would lie, cheat, steal or even kill** to ensure the safety of my son."

The king scrutinized her. "Well, Queen Fárbauti, **~it is my belief...that the truth is generally preferable to lies**."  
"Then the truth is...I need thine help as much as the Realms will...and thou need what I know. I am desperate, Laufey is desperate, Midgard in its weakness will be."

Odin locked eyes with hers, then a silvery teal with amethyst specks. "Continue."

* * *

**Adjacent Dimension: Alternate Midgard,  
London, England, 19 February 1981**

Jean and Benjamin smiled down at their sleeping daughters. He lay beside her in the hospital bed, careful of her IV and chords. Jean lightly caressed one of the delicate arms.  
"They're beautiful," Benjamin whispered, sounding somewhat awed as Hermione sneezed in her sleep.  
"She has your eyes," he murmured, touching Rosalie's elbow. She stirred slightly.  
"And your nose," Jean added. She sighed. "I can't believe it: homo-paternal superfecundation. It's a second miracle. Hermione was the first and Rosalie is the second."  
"I know what you mean...I don't know how on earth Rosalie managed to get her heartbeat synced with Hermione's and her body directly shielded by hers, but she did."

Jean's bushy reddish brown hair was pulled into a bun on top of her head.  
"Would you mind taking them? My arms are absolutely aching."  
"Sure," Benjamin replied. He placed them in their transparent rest boxes one at a time. Jean sat up, turning the switches on her cassette player until the selected nursery rhyme was playing softly.  
"No Bach or Beethoven?" he teased.

Jean reclined back on her pillows smiling.  
"Humoring grandfather with a few Norse lullabies."  
They both fell silent as the soft voice of the woman on tape filtered through the room.

_The sky is dark and the hills are white_  
_As the storm-king speeds from the north to-night;_  
_And this is the song the storm-king sings,_  
_As over the world his cloak he flings:_  
_'Sleep, sleep, little one, sleep;'_  
_He rustles his wings and gruffly sings:_  
_'Sleep, little one, sleep.'_

_On yonder mountain-side a vine_  
_Clings at the foot of a mother pine;_  
_The tree bends over the trembling thing,_  
_And only the vine can hear her sing:_  
_'Sleep, sleep, little one, sleep;_  
_What shall you fear when I am here?_  
_Sleep, little one, sleep.'_

_The king may sing in his bitter flight,_  
_The pine may croon to the vine to-night,_  
_But the little snowflake at my breast_  
_Liketh the song I sing the best,-_  
_'Sleep, sleep, little one, sleep;_  
_Weary thou art, anext my heart;_  
_Sleep, little one, sleep._

* * *

Fárbauti sat in the War Chamber in Asgard, listening as Odin made plans with his generals. The conversation was hushed and serious. She noticed faintly that no one would look her in the eye. Her black hair had been tamed, a bath drawn and new clothes given, and she sat looking like the queen she had been tricked into becoming.

"Can we trust her?" a broad shouldered warrior with a long scar running the length of his right cheek asked. His suspicion and that of others was evident. Odin turned his gaze on the man, radiating long-suffered patience. He opened his mouth to speak when the door to the chamber banged open. Heimdall strode in urgently.  
"The Jotunns are attacking Midgard, my Lord."

"Does that answer thy impertinent question?" Odin responded, standing. Nearly everyone at the table except two stood, hurrying to file out. Odin looked to Fárbauti. "Thank thee. The Realms and those of Asgard are in your debt."  
"Think nothing of it," she retorted flatly. Odin followed after his army, every inch a figure of nobility. The two left sat in silence for hours.

Fárbauti stood sinuously. She dipped her head at the remaining Asgardian.  
"Queen Frigga," she addressed her politely.  
"Queen Fárbauti," Frigga returned. Fárbauti nodded, moving toward the open door. Frigga's voice made her halt her steps.  
"Thy son is protected very well," Frigga said.  
"Thank thee."  
Fárbauti kept her back to the woman.  
"Thou have not named him yet?" Frigga asked contemplatively. "Thou never called him by name in all of this time."  
"No," Fárbauti answered, turning to stare at her. "When something is _Named_, it can be _Found_."

She exited the room, hurrying as best she could with regained strength to the Bifrost. Once there, Heimdall didn't question her as she sat by him.  
"The fight will spread to Jotunheim," she said, looking up at him. He turned his golden eyes on her.  
"You do not have to wait here, Lady."  
He offered her his hand, which she took.  
"I did not know what was required of me."  
"No mother should be kept from saying farewell," he murmured. Fárbauti looked away. She swallowed tears and emotion before speaking.  
"Odin will bring peace. Frigga will nurture him and Asgard will keep him safer than I ever could. I will tell Laufey nothing."

"You are brave. Your sacrifice will not be forgotten."  
She clutched onto Heimdall for support. His eyes went over her shoulder. "Lady Frigga," he greeted.  
Fárbauti dropped her hands, turning instead to stare down Frigga.  
"Promise me. Swear it. Swear to treat him as your own, to-to..."  
"I will," Frigga promised kindly. "Simply call if you need us."  
Heimdall stiffened suddenly. "Go now."  
Fárbauti stepped through at once, transporting into the heart of the icy land. The skirmish on Midgard must have only lasted a short while. Full blown war had erupted on Jotunheim.

Fárbauti was standing on the edge of the fray looking out. The blood pounded in her ears as she sought out Odin, fighting Jotunns with magic but not killing. The soldiers did enough of _that_. She ran through the frosty streets, through debris toward the black ice castle. The corridors were wrought with battle damage and ongoing brutality as well. She saw Odin at last, facing off with Laufey.  
Gungnir flashed, and Laufey was on his back, the tip at his throat. His eyes ghosting upward, he caught sight of Fárbauti.

"Fárbauti," he hissed. Odin's spear prodded his chest.  
"Dost thou accept defeat, King Laufey?"  
Not taking his eyes off of Fárbauti, he seemingly considered. "On the terms that my heir and wife be returned," he proposed in his honey tone.  
"_Bastard_," Fárbauti spat, fire appearing in her palms and her eyes clouding a gray so dark it was almost black.  
"Dost thou accept the terms, King Odin of Asgard?" he continued harshly.  
"Try again," Odin commanded, prodding harder.

"I concede defeat, as is my right as the still acting Queen of this Realm," Fárbauti snarled, flames licking across her flesh and her hair billowing as she glared hatefully at Laufey.  
"I accept and acknowledge the declaration," Odin said softly. "As of now, the Casket of Ancient Winters is being confiscated in the best interest of all Nine Realms."  
"I concur," Fárbauti said formally.

* * *

**TONSBERG, NORWAY  
965 A.D.**

Naryu was a wanderer. She was restless. Something had been eating her from the inside out, itching for recognition, demanding attention, as persistent as TB chewing away at healthy lungs. Her head ached slightly with confusion every time she almost had it, had almost caught a darting glimpse, like a bright clever fish dodging heavy paws underwater. She was a youngling, probably three or four by Midgard standards even though no Sylph knew their parents or their age, but instead of staying in Chadaemonah, she used every Glamour she had to slip away unnoticed to explore. After all, their species were different.

Alosa was too nosy for her liking. She had been staying away from him ever since the morning she awoke with cold chills and an instinctual caution towards him. She had learned to keep what she did not wish to reveal close to her. He didn't know, for instance, that she took regular trips to a world with nine interconnected Realms, each with varying neighboring planets and solar systems, quite a few alternate timelines, and thirteen different dimensions. She was inexplicably drawn there. Mostly she had been to a place called "Midgard", having been too frightened by the tall warrior on the Bifrost to try to sneak into the place called "Asgard".

She pulled her cloak more tightly about her thin frame, small boots crunching in the fallen snow. The current flurry sprinkled her hair. It kept getting colder. Her Sylphen magic kept her from being vulnerable, leaving her to relish in each cool flake dusting her chilled face. Fires burned brightly in the next village over, and she hurried toward them. She was almost there when a frost colder than that of Dis swept downward. It froze the helpless mortals to death instantly. Naryu used the Sylph ability to become air or mist to stay alive, her essence trembling as she turned in the direction of a far off rise.

Tall, monstrous apparitions stood atop the rocky summit, the one out in front holding a square blue object to the now lifeless community. They were all the same color blue, all with the same crimson eyes. _Frost Giants_, the air whispered to her, curling around her securely like a skittish pup.

There was a sudden flash and swirl of color, like a giant revolving collidescope, and suddenly the opposite rise was teeming with what she recognized as Asgardians. Naryu wavered, terrified yet transfixed as a battle erupted before her misty eyes, then wide in disbelief.  
_Run,_ whispered the wind. _Hide_, sighed the frost.  
_I can't_, she dispersed back, and all of the element voices abated, leaving the Sylph alone, save for a single loyal breeze.

The giants and warriors surged into each other viscously, metal clanging harshly in the gloom, blood spilling against the pale ground like red paint on fresh white canvas. Shrieks and cries rent the air. Some armored Asgard warriors were frozen solid, impaled by ice, while giants were hacked at and burned. Naryu stayed rooted until the flow of bodies began drifting away, off of Midgard.

She followed.

Naryu didn't know what possessed her to stay gone so long; she was horrifyingly curious. Flowing through the ravaged ice kingdom of Jotunheim, she watched their king fall, saw their power source taken. While she stayed, drifted, those of Asgard remained as well in the aftermath. The temple door hung open, banging softly open and closed. Naryu materialized, no longer feeling the need to be cautious, reaching a pale hand out to hold the large door steady enough to slip nimbly inside without being closed between door and frame.

It was so quiet, and desolate. She cocked her head. She was sure she had heard a quiet huff, a sniffle. Quiet crying broke out softly, a baby's keening utterance. Naryu scrabbled through the snow, searching in rag piles and brushing aside frost until she found it. It was blue from the crown of its still-delicate skull to the bottoms of the tiny, kicking feet. The eyes opened: they were a brilliant vermillion. Tears glistened, fists shaking as it studied her and she studied it. She had never seen a Frost Giant infant, but quickly surmised that it was undersized.

Compassion flooded her gaze as she dropped to her knees before the scantily swaddled bundle. She flipped the ragged cloth aside momentarily.  
"Thou art a boy," she said softly, as if he could understand. He shrieked harder. Instinctively, she unwound her scarf and bundled him up as best she could, her skin tingling where it touched the baby's. It was their magic greeting, or so she thought. He sniffled pitifully, watching her as she gently lifted him and pulled him close to her warmth, sheltering him with her body.

"Shhh," she cooed, kissing the cool forehead.  
"I will not harm thee. Thou art safe with me..."  
He seemed to nestle into her warmer skin. She flushed when his small mouth brushed her chest. He must have been hungry. She bounced him slightly, his sanguine eyes watching as she hummed, searching her pocket for a few Redrum berries she had saved earlier. She bent her head close to his tiny icy lips opening like a nestling's beak, crushing the berry between her teeth so that the juice dribbled into his mouth, then extricated her own small flask of Murmur milk from her waist pouch. She began dripping small drops between his lips. He was no longer crying, but waiting, smacking his lips appreciatively.

"I see it pleases thee," Naryu breathed, capping the sweet, buttery milk and replacing it. He hiccupped. She trailed a tentative finger along his cheek. He gurgled at her, staring right at her. For a moment, his skin changed to her parlor and his eyes ringed themselves, then flickered back.  
"Thou wouldst not want to mimic me," she whispered, "not a princeling like thee."

Movement behind her startled them both. He whimpered in her arms, his nails scratching her faintly. She clutched him to her chest, turning. A great, broad man stood a few feet from where she crouched, studying her. He was a fair-skinned, armored Asgardian warrior, bearded and long-haired, one eye gouged out freshly, a trail of dry blood on his right cheek. He wore a silver helmet with curling silver horns. Auras confused younglings like Naryu, but the complexity made her tremble.  
"Great warrior, have mercy," she pleaded, "he is but an infant. Kill me if thou must, but do not harm him. He was here alone, abandoned, frightened, cold...suffering...please, he would have died...enough blood has spilled this day," she bowed her head humbly, waiting.

"No harm will come to thee, child," he said without hesitation. "Thou art right...he is innocent...as art thou."  
Naryu lifted her head. She flinched when he knelt near her. She automatically shielded the baby, whose crying had started anew at his proximity.  
"Dost thou not have to check with thy leader, or mayest thou spare a life as thou pleaseth?"  
" I am Odin," he told her. He looked at her eyes steadily, then switched to the baby.  
"I wish to take him with me," Odin said quietly, thoughtful. Naryu clutched the small blue body to hers desperately, eyes going wild. Odin watched wordlessly as she transitioned from humble to fervent. She could tell he was honest, but she was fearful of him, his strength and power, and the baby couldn't have been more terrified. With their skin pressing together in so many places, she felt all of his fears as they made his small form quiver.

"You may come, if you wish," the king before her murmured kindly. "I understand the ways of the Sylph somewhat, and know that you may not be missed."  
"What-what would thou doest with him-or me?" she quavered.  
"Raise him as my son," he replied. Naryu nodded, sensing the truth, if only part of it, slowly holding the baby out towards him for inspection, though not removing her hands as he cradled the baby boy between his long, scarred, dirty fingers. Before their eyes his skin faded from livid blue to a soft rosy hue, the ruddy eyes his tears welled from shifting into two small, glistening orbs of mottled silvery green-blue.  
"Wouldst it trouble thee if I named him?" Naryu whispered quietly.  
"No," Odin replied, giving her a kind look, "but make sure it is a name fit for a princeling, one that has worth."  
"Loki," she said without preamble.  
"Loki?" Odin repeated, his surprise showing clearly. "Why lock, close, an end?"  
"In the language of the Sylph, it means _'he who dost endure, he that doth survive'_."  
"Then...that is very fitting a name indeed, especially for a prince."  
"Thank thee," she murmured. He lowered his hands from the newly named Loki, allowing her to stand with him. She cradled him carefully, smiling faintly as he nuzzled against her.

Odin hefted his weapon in one hand, guiding Naryu by the shoulder with the other. They walked to the gathering throng of soldiers awaiting departure, the power source secured. The collidescope beam absorbed them, and Naryu pressed Loki into her flesh without smothering him, his heart pumping over hers as they were transported to Asgard, the Sylph and the Changeling Prince.

* * *

Fárbauti walked out of the front entrance of Laufey's palace with Odin at her side.  
"This way," was all she said to Odin. He followed her without question. The temple door was slightly ajar when they came to it.  
"No one else must see me," she intreated quietly.  
"As thou wish, so be it. Work thy magic to make it so."

She allowed him to enter ahead of her. She crept in just a step to the right and behind. A small girl was by the nest Fárbauti had made, the remains scattered around her and Fárbauti's son in her small lap. She was pale, her hair blonde. She lifted her head at the intrusion, eyes wide and terrified. Fárbauti's breath caught in her throat. The girl's brown eyes were ringed. She was a Sylph.

"Great warrior, have mercy," she pleaded, "he is but an infant. Kill me if thou must, but do not harm him. He was here alone, abandoned, frightened, cold...suffering...please, he would have died...enough blood has spilled this day," she bowed her head humbly, waiting.

Fárbauti scoffed.

"No harm will come to thee, child," Odin said without hesitation-or input from Fárbauti. "Thou art right...he is innocent...as art thou."  
The girl lifted her head, flinching when he knelt near her. Fárbauti knealt at his side to better see her. The girl automatically shielded Fárbauti's baby, whose crying had started anew as he sensed his mother's proximity and was denied contact.

"Dost thou not have to check with thy leader, or mayest thou spare a life as thou pleaseth?"  
" I am Odin," he told her. He looked at her eyes steadily, then switched to the baby. Fárbauti studied the girl further. She obviously meant no harm.  
"Tell her," Fárbauti said, "tell her of thy prescious deal, of what we agreed upon."

"I wish to take him with me," Odin said quietly, appearing thoughtful as he listened to Fárbauti's fervent instructions . The girl clutched the small blue body to hers desperately, eyes going wild. Odin and Fárbauti watched wordlessly as she transitioned from humble to fervent.  
"Take her, too," Fárbauti murmured as she watched the girl press the baby against her.  
"She will help care for him. Only a caring, compassionate, loving heart, a pure heart, could have broken my spell. Being a Sylph she is a wanderer that will not be missed."

"You may come, if you wish," he offered as she suggested. "I understand the ways of the Sylph somewhat, and know that you may not be missed."  
"What-what would thou doest with him-or me?" she fear was evident to Fárbauti. She waited to see how Odin would handle the question.  
"Raise him as my son," he replied. The youngling nodded, sensing the truth, if only part of it, slowly holding the baby out towards him for inspection, though not removing her hands as he cradled the baby boy between his long, scarred, dirty fingers. Unseen by the Sylph, Fárbauti leaned in to kiss her son. She stopped, surprised at what she was seeing.

Before their eyes his skin faded from livid blue to a soft rosy hue, the ruddy eyes his tears welled from shifting into two small, glistening orbs of mottled silvery green-blue. He had her eyes. Fárbauti almost sobbed. He could shift like her and he had her eyes. She pressed her lips to his forehead, and he stopped crying at once. The girl's small voice broke into her rising emotional storm.

"Wouldst it trouble thee if I named him?" she whispered quietly. Fárbauti started. The eye Odin had not lost in battle revolved to look at her face while the child in front of them was distracted. She shook her head, speechless.  
"No," Odin replied, shooting Fárbauti a glance of sympathy and giving the girl a kind look, "but make sure it is a name fit for a princeling, one that has worth."  
"Loki," she said without preamble. Fárbauti tensed.

"Loki?" Odin repeated, his surprise showing clearly. "Why lock, close, an end?"  
Fárbauti wondered much the same thing.  
"In the language of the Sylph, it means_ 'he who dost endure, he that doth survive'_."  
She relaxed. She had forgotten. She had not been in contact with Sylphs for a long while. Odin's eye found her again. She nodded once more.  
"Then...that is very fitting a name indeed, especially for a prince."  
"Thank thee," the child murmured. He lowered his hands from the newly named Loki, allowing the girl to stand with him. She cradled him carefully, smiling faintly as he nuzzled against her. Fárbauti envied her. She would be denied such.

Odin hefted his weapon in one hand, guiding her by the shoulder with the other. Fárbauti traveled with them.

Later, when servants were cleaning the girl up, Fárbauti went to see Frigga. The other queen held Loki in her arms. She had a smile on her lovely face when she saw Fárbauti. There was no communication needed. Loki was transferred before any of them knew what was happening.  
"My little enduring prince," Fárbauti whispered, rocking him in her arms. Her eyes flashed lavender and his followed suit.

"Know that thou art _loved_," she pleaded, "know that thy mother loves thee. Thou art Laufey's son but thou art _Fárbauti's son_ as well."

"Thou knoweth he cannot know,"  
Fárbauti felt something inside of her snap.  
"He will one day," she affirmed. "When he is a man. When he is safe from Laufey. When he can reason."  
Her head lifted at an idea. "Could I...perhaps...please...stay as the children's caretaker? Royalty on Midgard I know have others care for their children. Then we will be bonded...thy son will be mine also just as my son will be thine."

Frigga tilted her head as the other Queen jiggled Loki to sleep.  
"That could probably be arranged."  
"Then he will know me by my new title..._Nurse_."  
"Or by thy other name, _Nál_."  
Fárbauti's head snapped up. "He could find out the truth too easily-"

"Or _Dashta_. It's means _"mother soul"_ or _"mother-like-protector"_ in the language of the Sylph. Then thou wouldn't have to take on a new name. T'is a proper noun for any mother figure. Thou can be our _Dashta_."  
They turned in shock to see the girl, Naryu, regain her shape from where she had been hiding near the eaves. Frigga smiled dazzlingly, and Fárbauti seemed at ease.  
"Why not?"  
Loki sneezed as if in agreement.


	3. Playmates

**The Remnant Prince**

_**# Rewritten and added to, and then fixed on site as of 8 of August, 2013, Wednesday.**_

_**#See later chapters for the ~ and bolded explanation of certain parts of the text. Refer to AN's in chapters 4 and/or 5.**_

**Referencing for explanation includes chapter 1 due to the most recent of changes made.**

_**Thank you.**_

* * *

_Ch. 2: Playmates_

"I'm going to get you!" a golden haired boy with bright blue eyes sang confidently as he stalked the palace corridors, the guards looking on expressionlessly.  
"You'll never find us~" Naryu sang back in a smug whisper. Loki giggled at her side, warming her heart. He rarely giggled, for a child. She was nine and a half and he and Thor were seven by Asgard, although to her knowledge decades could have passed, as childhoods were long with both of their people. It had been a pleasant few years away from home either way, although speech patterns had changed. No more thees and thous or dost and doth. Asgard had moved past it all.

"I heard you!" Thor exclaimed gleefully, charging into the weapons room. Sif, Thor's best friend of the same age aspiring to be a female warrior, slithered from behind a statue, dashing away. Naryu readjusted her hold on Loki from their current hiding position near the ceiling, her misty presence just thick enough to support him and their glamour making them less conspicuous. It was more of a challenge to do both at once, but they got regular practice.  
"You're almost getting as good as I am at illusion," she remarked.  
"And you're almost as good at flattery."  
"I mean it," she said, shifting.  
"So do I," he quipped.  
"I'm surprised your brother hasn't asked for any clasps yet. I thought he would run through all three at once."  
"I think he rather forgets it's hide and _clap_, but rather hide and _scrap_," Loki told her scathingly, rubbing a bruised elbow. "Oaf."

Naryu smirked, drawing gusts of air up to support them as she regained her usual form.  
"He might realize t'is draftier here," she sighed, sounding bored as she reclined. Loki reclined with her. "I doubt it. When does he ever stop to think?"  
They fell silent as Thor's voice came from down the corridor. "I request a clap!"  
Loki gave one dispassionate smack of his hands, scowling. Naryu grinned wickedly at him, air clapping. She leaned closer, close enough to whisper in his ear, "Do you solemnly swear you're up to no good, my tricky little princeling?"  
"I'd have it no other way, duchess," he replied smoothly, eyes shimmering a moss green that always denoted pure mischief.  
"Then let's have some fun. This game is always so dull with only a few of us."  
Loki smirked. They held their hands up between them, palms touching the other's palms like double high-fives, and concentrated. Below them, the hallway space shimmered, and rather solid seeming doubles of each of them materialized, all smirking devilishly.

"Another clap!" Thor called as they all scattered, giggling, just as he came around the corner. The Loki nearest him waved cheekily as it disappeared.  
"That's no fair!" Thor huffed. "Sorcery shouldn't be allowed! It's cheating!"  
"All's fair in love and war," Naryu replied, throwing her voice so it emanated from a suit of armor. "And no one said it was against the rules to ask new friends to play."

Loki was beside himself, squirming with satisfaction and squeezing her hands from their lowered but still joined position. "A clap!" Thor cried, looking around everywhere but upward. Naryu stilled Loki's hands before he could clap and closed her eyes, willing her clones to clap wherever they were, allowing herself an air-clap. When she opened them, Loki was staring at her, a wicked grin gracing his pale countenance.

Thor rushed on, practically tripping to win, hair flying.  
"I almost feel sorry for him," she said in a tone of false solemnity without an ounce of pity in her voice, "almost."  
Loki made a scornful noise. "Well I don't, not at all."  
His eyes sparked a sudden playful periwinkle.  
"Thor seems to be rather busy with the rest of us and Sif. Care to take a break?"  
"I don't see the harm in it," Naryu agreed in the same tone. She slid her hands to wrap around his wrists, slowly dispelling the air buoying them upward so that they glided gently downward. Their booted feet touched the stones just as three Lokis sprinted past.

"Come on," she gently tugged. He didn't allow anyone else to guide him that way. He followed her through the cool corridors, stalking past the guards as if daring them to call them cheats. Naryu paused at one of the high windows, sighing as she traced the sill with one long finger.  
"I wish I had my wings."  
"You'll get them," Loki assured her softly. She smiled sadly, leaning her head against his.  
"I hope so, I really do. Then we can soar."  
Thor could be heard closer than before, so they moved onward with quickened steps. They scrambled down long flights of winding stairs, running as soon as they reached the bottom. Another double darted past into a trophy room. Rounding a corner, they collided with someone much larger, the impact knocking them both on their backsides.

"Ouch!" Naryu muttered, turning to regard Loki.  
"Are you all right?"  
"Are both of you all right?" Odin's voice asked. He knelt down to their level, light from a window glinting off of his gold eye patch.  
"Yes, father, I'm all right," Loki murmured, letting Odin examine him. Naryu said nothing, nodding her head, lips pressed together.  
"Where are you two going?" he asked, looking extremely serious as he spread his one-eyed stare to include both of them.  
"We're not sure," Naryu answered. "We were playing..."  
"Ah, yes, hide-and-clap," Odin said amusedly. "Shouldn't Thor have been blindfolded?"  
"Well, the castle's big, and he can't see us or catch Sif anyway."  
Odin grunted. "And does Thor know you're leaving?"  
Loki smirked despite himself. "He's not alone."  
"Of course not," the king said. "Do be careful."

He heaved himself upwards and walked on, heading in the direction of the throne room. Naryu and Loki righted themselves, dusting each other off.  
"Naryu," Odin called, almost as an afterthought.  
"Yes, Father," she replied evenly. "Don't have each other out late. Your tutors will be arriving early tomorrow."

Once he disappeared, Naryu turned to Loki again, who wore a rather closed, distant expression, his lips tugged lightly into a frown and his eyes a stormy shade of viridian.  
"Are you ready?" she asked softly. His gaze refocused on her and he nodded. He kept his silence as they padded through the halls. There came an archway that opened into an open corridor like a covered bridge.  
"Do you trust me?" she asked him. His eyes snapped onto her face. "Yes."

She beckoned him with her eyes, telling him to follow her all the way to the Bifrost. Instead of stepping on and walking forward towards Heimdall, she took him to the side. She raised both hands, creating a rectangle with them. He watched as her face contorted in concentration. His eyes twinkled in fascination, observing the colorful, jagged window forming before them. Lightening seemed to streak within.

Naryu sighed in relief, lowering her hands. She looked through the opening cautiously, peering left and right.  
"T'is safe. We can-"  
"Where does it lead?" Loki interrupted.  
"Chadaemonah."  
"The place you say the Sylphs live?" he inquired.  
She tilted her face towards him. Loki opened his mouth to say something, but Naryu leaned forward, blowing cold air across his face. His eyes watered and he blinked rapidly.  
"What did you do to me!" he sibilated. Naryu grabbed him and covered his mouth with her hand. He struggled. "Shhh, be quiet or he'll hear us!" she hissed against the shell of his ear. He stopped trying to squirm away, scowling at Naryu as she helped him crawl through the window.

A sensation not unlike being dunked underwater overtook the two. Loki sat up, blinking. The window hovered at their side. A screen of greenery surrounded them, casting a three foot by three foot clearing into ferny dusk.  
"How do you feel?" Naryu asked from beside of him.  
"How does laundry feel?" he retorted hotly.  
"Certainly not like it's up to no good," Naryu responded, grinning impishly. Loki's lips curled to match hers, if more mischievous in their display.  
"Certainly not."

* * *

They were flushed and laughing lightly as they reemerged into Asgard. Naryu turned, closing the window. Loki watched soberly as it fizzled out.  
"I think we're going to be late for dinner."  
Naryu glanced at the city, so far off.  
"You're probably right. We better hurry."  
He grabbed her wrist, just as the front steps of the castle loomed nearer.  
"Whatever you did to me-"  
"I only glamoured your eyes." She shrugged. "Change them back."  
Loki blinked, the apparent rings vanishing, leaving behind anxious crystal blue eyes. Relief passed over his features.  
"I would never do anything to harm you, Loki Odinson," Naryu whispered, looking him over.

"Where have you been?"  
Their eyes slid to the now open door, where Thor and Sif stood, accompanied by a guard. He pouted.  
"You cheated."  
Sif made a noise of assent in her throat.  
"So saith the king," Naryu mock-simpered, bowing ridiculously. Loki tittered. Sif made a face.  
"The Allfather, Queen Frigga, and Dashta await you in the feast hall," the guard intoned.  
"Thank you," Naryu said, inclining her head. He walked behind the four of them all the way to the feast hall, which was full to the brim with warriors.

"Oh look, Mother and Dashta've saved us each a seat," Thor pointed, immediately speeding up to claim the one closest to Odin with Sif on his heels. Dashta's purple eyes grazed them in their gentle manner, and then went to Loki and Naryu apologetically. A gaggle of young warriors in training sat in a small line between Sif and Mother. Naryu let Loki choose his seat first, watching as he hesitated before sliding in between Mother and Dashta. Naryu folded at his side, wincing at the roar in the Hall. Frigga was already engaged with young Lady Sif's mother. The noise level was so horrible that one had to lean in to hear a conversation partner. Frigga spared them one blithe smile before continuing on with her friend.  
"It's like the horde of Foryx that stampede around the House of Foryx..."  
"What?" one of the warriors piped up distractedly as he reached over to grab a golden apple, gnawing on an enormous lamb's leg.  
"The House of Foryx, where all times do meet. A herd rampages constantly around it."  
"Wh-"  
"Now, now, don't pester the duchess," his companion scolded lightheartedly as he spooned himself a mountain of potatoes.  
"No, no, that's quite all right..."

Their attention was gone in the next instant anyways, as a third began listing battle glories from the old days, making the trainees strain their ears for the details.  
"Is that all they speak of?" Naryu muttered to Loki.  
"Do you ever hear else-wise?" he replied, sipping from his goblet. Thor seemed thrilled, swinging his hands animatedly as he chattered to Sif and the Warriors Three of all he planned to do as king. Loki stabbed a hunk of meat rather forcefully, looking close to glowering.

"Rather sure of himself, isn't he?" he said quietly.  
"Well, he can afford to take liberties, for now, to dream. That hubris will interfere with being a good king, though."

"Sometimes it's like it's already decided and the throne is sitting, just waiting for him," Loki said bitterly. He reached for a cheese ball, his sleeve receding enough that a dark bruise was left exposed, stretching out of sight under his clothing. Naryu hadn't meant to, but she gasped before she could stop herself.  
"There's only one prince in Asgard, and it's Thor," Loki hissed in an undertone. The pain in his voice was palpable.  
"No, you are just as much a prince as he. Who did that to you and when?" Naryu asked quietly.  
"It doesn't matter. I don't want Father to know. He'll think I'm weak."  
She shook her head. "He wouldn't. Tell me, Loki, tell me who hurt you and we can get them back together."  
Despite himself, Loki shot some of the other Asgardian children a filthy, withering glare. He gave away no more, lips tightening into a thin line and eyes narrowing.  
"Don't worry your silly heart over me. You're better than that. I'll get them myself."

Naryu grew quiet, saying no more. He shifted, brushing against her. The contact left her feeling a flash of what he was, a roiling ocean of confusion, pain, anger, hurt pride and loneliness, a touch of envy and cold, undeniable loathing.  
"They tease you," she whispered, "when no one is around to hear, when you are alone...about your magic, your slightness, your fighting skills and..."  
"Stop it," he spat. His eyes were slitted like a serpent's, a harsh, unnatural grey that was almost white.  
"You don't have to lash out at me," Naryu replied in a low, calm, voice, full of silk, which always denoted danger, more so than when she yelled. He said nothing, merely clenched his fist under the table. She slid her fingers lightly over his knuckles and the back of his hand.  
"You know, despite all of his faults, I'm sure Thor, and even Sif, would understand. I don't think he would appreciate it if he found out."  
Loki refused to speak, instead choosing to glower down at his plate, but the tension in his hand loosened somewhat.  
"I want his approval, too," he whispered in an undertone so soft that Naryu wasn't sure he had spoken at first. She opened her mouth to ask who, but the quick dart of his eyes told her for him.  
"He smiles wider and laughs harder at everything Thor does. Am I cursed to never be good enough?"  
Naryu thought carefully about her reply.  
"Trying to measure two very different people is like trying to say fire and ice are the same. You can only be yourself, and no one else, and you're _loved_. You can never be him in the same way no one else can be you. I think Frigga and Odin appreciate us in different ways. You are the reserved calm to temper his reckless storm, I am the reason to cool your tempers, and he is the bluntness that begets what your cleverness cannot. You need each other. Whoever is crowned-" here, Loki scoffed disbelieving of the fair probability-" whoever is crowned, Asgard will have two kings whose two heads will be better than one."

"He would consult Sif," Loki deadpanned, "not me. He has no concern for tempering, as you put it. You and I both will be pushed aside for like minds."  
"So saith the King," she murmured, albeit not expressing the mockery she had shown Thor.  
"I would have you at my side," Loki said, not nearly as hostile as beforehand. His lips twisted into a smirk. "Father, Mother and Dashta always comment on your wisdom. Better you than that dunderhead. We're different enough, aren't we?"  
Naryu snorted. "Of course we are, but what about your queen? Thor will probably marry Sif. You have to have someone other than your sister to rule at your side."

His face darkened again. "I don't think I'll find anyone in Asgard who would marry me."  
"So you're telling me that you've met all of the girls in Asgard?"  
"Pfft, no," he said, rolling his eyes. "But don't tell me you honestly think someone would marry me."  
Their discussion was cut short as the benches scraped. The meal had ended. People began filing out of the entrances. Naryu and Loki rose together, turning toward the door closest to them.

"Naryu dear, a word."  
Both their heads turned. Frigga stood by a column, beckoning to her over the decreasing volume.  
"Go on," Naryu told him, briefly touching the back of his hand. He stood for a moment, then reluctantly latched onto Thor and Sif as they left.  
"Yes, Mother?" she invited, coming to stand in front of her. Most assumed she was an illegitimate heir, not merely adopted. Naryu was grateful, happy even. It gave her the kind of family that Sylphs never had. Frigga bent down to speak by her ear.  
"Thank you, duchess. You are a wise child. You spoke the truth with the right words. You would make a worthy queen, especially should anything befall Thor or Loki."  
"I am no princess, Mother."  
"You are my princess, Naryu. You gave me the daughter I never dreamed to have, and when my son, Loki, finds love, I will have another. But you were and are the first. Do not forget it."  
Naryu blinked back tears. "I won't."

When she emerged, Thor, Sif, and Loki were waiting. They left together. 

* * *

Frigga came out shortly after, glancing around.  
"I know you're out here, Fárbauti,"she said. Fárbauti materialized in the shadows, stepping out. Her hair was still the same color, if a bit longer, and her appearance, of course, had been glamoured. Her eyes had been glamoured for years to appear only purple. Only Frigga and Odin could see their true nature. A constant reminder of their promise that she no longer had to hold them to. The three loved the children in their care as their own. Fárbauti and Frigga both had always wanted a daughter, anyway.

"I just have to watch sometimes...and breath him in," she murmured. While Frigga loved all of them and Odin unconsciously favored Thor, Fárbauti knew in her heart which child she loved best. Loki knew he had her love and acceptance, and Frigga's. It was Odin's he thirsted for, just as all of the boys if Asgard wanted their father's approval.

"I understand," Frigga returned.  
"Do you?" Fárbauti murmured.  
"More than you would think...sister."  
Fárbauti lifted her head. "Then what'll happen to all of those little shits that bother my son?"  
Frigga smiled knowingly.  
"I rather think our son and daughter will pay them in kind."  
Fárbauti smirked. "I would hope so...sister."  
She liked the taste of the word. She missed her half brother and sister dearly. She missed hearing _and _saying it. Sister. 

* * *

Hermione coughed, a ringing in her ears and her eyes burning. She could still hear the medical team around her bed working on her. Every breath scorched her lungs. Her throat was dry and sore, her muscles ached and screamed.

"What's wrong with My?" Rose's voice chimed in.  
"Get her out of here!" someone yelled furiously.  
"I'm sorry," one of the doctors murmured. "The infection's spread. We've given her...-ccs, but it's not working. Something we've never seen is fighting it. Her original illness...rampant...a week at best..."

It was about then that Hermione passed out.


	4. Along Came A Mortal

**Ch.3: Along Came A Mortal**  


_Lancelot considered his cup. "He is inhuman", he said at last. "But why should he be human? Are angels supposed to be human?"_  
_-T. H. White, The Ill-Made Knight_

* * *

Loki was finally sleeping after lying in bed for hours, if fitfully, when he was startled awake from the pounding on his door. The snarl working its way up in his throat died at the sound of Naryu's voice.  
"Loki, Loki, _open up now_."  
He threw his bed sheets back, kicking them off when they made a snare around his ankles. He stalked across his chamber and opened the door.

Her appearance slightly alarmed him. Naryu was frantic and wild-eyed, silky hair coming loose from her long braid and going in all directions. She was paler than usual, and large violet rings rested under her eyes like bruises, her cloak pulled on haphazardly over her nightgown. Loki's forehead went into the rare and rarer seen crease of concern for someone else. He gripped her wrist firmly, darting his eyes either way as he pulled her into the room. He closed the door quietly. When he turned to regard her, she was standing completely still in the middle of the room, staring off, eyes wide and unblinking.

"Naryu," Loki said evenly as he approached. She didn't respond at first. Her shoulder gave a nearly imperceptible twitch as he stepped closer. Her gaze focused on his, dreamy and vacant for a moment, when he took her by the shoulders. She seemed to snap out of the trance, all of her urgency returning.  
"A girl is going to die without our help," she whispered hoarsely. Loki stiffened, eyes narrowed.  
"Who, someone we know?" he inquired. Her eyebrows contracted in confusion and focus.  
"N-no...at least, not yet...but she's important to us, I can feel it."  
"What's that supposed to mean?" Loki snapped impatiently.  
"She seems...familiar. We have to-" Naryu broke off with a gasp. She probed Loki's face with her stare.  
"Please...don't you trust me?"  
The Liesmith held the contact and told the truth because he knew she always knew when someone was lying. "Yes. If I trust anyone, it's you. "

"Come on then," she said confidently. She waited as Loki pulled on his own cloak over his nightshirt, and then carefully cracked the door open. The corridor was silent and empty, the torches burning low on the walls as they stole away. They had to hide more than once to keep guards from walking into them, finding it necessary to silence and glamour their presence regardless.

As soon as the Bifrost came into sight, she broke into a sprint. He followed more slowly, feeling rather resigned. Heimdall didn't give any inclination that their presence was known. Naryu grabbed Loki, and before he knew it, they were standing in front of a hospital in Midgard. Becoming more irritated than curious by the moment, Loki followed Naryu as she walked briskly through the sliding doors toward the elevator.

"Why should we care? Why her? Mortal children die every day of things we can cure."  
"Because she's important to us," Naryu replied while she pressed the elevator button until it lit up. She leaned against the wall to wait.  
"She's important to _you_," Loki sneered nastily as they stepped inside. Slowly, her head lifted, her eyes finding his.  
"No," she said calmly, firmly, "_us."_  
Her eyes held confused but confident knowledge of the fact. There was a ding, and the doors opened up. Loki shut up, turning his head to regard the ward they stood in where the girl lay as if bored. He was actually as intrigued as he was spooked at the way Naryu acted sometimes. It reminded him of Frigga's knowing regard. Not infallible or omnipotent, but frightening enough on its own.

The ward itself smelled of disinfectant. The walls were a lurid yellow. The fluorescent bulb overhead flickered as they passed unseen by staff and families alike into her room, whoever she was. It was a single room, the curtain drawn around the bed and the monitor beeping faintly. Loki watched as Naryu walked up to the bleached hanging, pushing it aside to get to the bedside. She half turned, beckoning him forward. He silently glided level with her. She twitched the fabric back into place, closing the door without a wave or a backward glance.  
"You must teach me how to animate objects," Loki murmured offhandedly. Naryu spared him a glance.  
"It's pretty much the same principle as it is with everything else-know what you want and let yourself have it."

He watched her eyes go to the occupant of the bed, following her line of sight. The girl was sleeping, as far as Loki could tell. She was curled up on her side facing them. She had thick, curly brown hair that was slightly bushy spread across the pillow behind her. A few stands fell forward to hallow her forehead. One of her hands clutched a fistful of sheets. A faint sheen of sweat glistened on her, and she was ever so pale.

It was so sudden that Loki didn't notice at first, not until the deepest of chocolate browns was penetrating his own. The girl blinked once, twice, as if to clear an obstruction. Her lips parted, a small sound escaping, as she tried to speak.  
"Who are you?" she croaked in a small voice, stare darting between him and Naryu. Loki startled.  
"She can see us?" he asked curiously.  
"And hear us," Naryu said calmly as those brown eyes darted back to her face at the sound of her voice.  
"How?" Loki breathed, "No one can."  
"Can you not feel it?" Naryu exhaled.

At first he did not, but after a moment, he did feel it, now that she'd mentioned it. He'd been too busy focusing on resenting the small ward in the dingy hospital on Midgard to notice, but he felt it then- magic tingling through the air around her, pulsing just underneath her skin and through her veins.  
"What is she?" he inquired.  
"Her kind would call her a witch, which I guess is not incorrect," Naryu replied. "Normally, even these so called 'Muggle-borns'-as is the so called coined term I believe-don't have to worry much about Muggle-as common people are called-illnesses. Their magic will usually combat the diseases easily, as they are most susceptible of their kind to catch both Muggle and magical bugs. This girl right here had the misfortune of catching one of each nature at the very same time, and a third opportunistic infection. Her magic is overwhelmed. Quite frankly, before we came she could barely turn her head, let alone speak. Her magic is drawing on ours for potency."

He watched as, smiling, Naryu brushed the younger girl's hair away from her unblemished but flushed pale face. The girl seemed to have been listening with rapt attention.  
"It'll be all right now," Naryu whispered, "Sleep."  
At first she seemed to fight it, but then her eyelids drooped shut tiredly and she sighed.  
"So, what? We just have to stand here gawking until she's skipping around again?" Loki scoffed.  
Naryu smiled oddly, again finding humor in his biting remarks.  
"Yes and no. Our presence helps, but having contact helps more."

Loki could feel his eyes widen. "You expect me to _touch_ some strange girl?"  
The odd smile remained as Naryu perched on the foot of the bed. "Something like that. All you have to do is hold her hand or something."  
She shrugged, standing. "Stay here while I snag some snacks from their...'vending machine' as I believe it is called."  
She walked calmly by him, exiting the room just as a blinking orderly entered, a new IV bag in hand. Loki watched him idly as he changed it and left them alone. As soon as the white-clad worker was gone, the girl's eyes opened.

"You're still here," she rasped in surprise.  
"Yes, against my better judgment," Loki replied, crossing his arms and gazing at the painted circus animals around the walls as if they held the secrets of the universe.  
"Well you've obviously got nothing else to do," came the wheezy reply. His eyes darted to hers in surprise. "Excuse me? I was sleeping peacefully before my sister drug me here for little you-and you're not even Asgardian."  
The girl, though it seemed to strain her, pulled herself up more in the form of dragging more of her body across the lumpy pillows underneath her.  
"Not peacefully," she croaked, meeting his stare.  
"And if you didn't care, you wouldn't have come. Besides, the Aesir are supposed to be a beacon of hope or something..." she trailed off as a cough racked her body.  
"What do you know of the Aesir?" Loki questioned, intrigued. She blinked blearily, wincing. It took a minute, but she did respond.  
"I'm sorry...but it _hurts_, you see..."she whispered. Loki didn't know what made him do it, but he eased forward to touch her wrist lightly. She gasped, her entire body jerking upward slightly.  
"Oh!" she exclaimed, "That feels good!"  
And it did, to an extent, for Loki as well. There was a pleasant, almost soothing thrumming occurring where his cool fingers grazed her hot, feverish skin. She fell back onto the bed with a sigh.

"Now, tell me-what do you know of the Aesir?" Loki reiterated. Her head turned toward him, a slight frown forming. "Not much...only what I've read from Library books, and they're vague and incomplete at most. The best sources can't be touch. Stuffy old duffers," she muttered, obviously speaking of the owners or caretakers. Loki's lips curved upward in amusement. He sometimes felt the same way about the keepers of books at Asgard. He sat on the edge of her bed, much closer than Naryu had.

"What is your name?" he asked, straightening the covers and smoothing out the wrinkles.  
"Hermione," the girl whispered, watching his long fingers work. She reached out her hand, shaking slightly, to still his. Loki was so surprised that he couldn't react at first, much less hear her question until the third time she repeated it. He was still stating at their hands.  
"And yours?" he heard her repeat. He shook his head, eyeing her.  
"Loki Odinson," he found himself answering softly. He started to pull away, but she grasped onto his hand more tightly.

"Please," she whispered, "It makes it all go away. Please don't go."  
He normally would have, but something in those pleading brown eyes or that desperate voice made him stay, take her hand between his and start rubbing small circles into the hot flesh up to her elbow. She hummed, closing her eyes.  
"The Aesir," she said after a fashion, long enough to make him jump and wonder where Naryu was," are Asgardians, obviously. They live with Odin the All-father-hang on-" her brow scrunched in confusion "-you're Loki _Odinson_?"  
"Did I stutter?" Loki retorted casually, tracing a faint design along the artery from her palm down the inside of her lower forearm to her elbow joint.  
"No," she shuddered.  
"Then continue," he said smoothly, and after only a little more hesitation, she did.  
"They're a race made immortal by their golden apples of youth. I've come to the conclusion they have magical properties, mind you. I know about the warriors and the Bifrost and Heimdall..."  
"Yes," he whispered," go on."  
"Although, I've never heard of you before..." her eyes traced his face in a way he hadn't known he had hungered or longed for, a rapt appreciation and fascination of sorts.  
"Albeit, plenty of gaps exist, and humans are bound to get some details wrong."  
"On that, we can agree," he remarked, smiling at her in a way he hadn't smiled before.

He got up, not expecting her sudden panic.  
"Loki, Loki please don't leave," she all but whimpered. He paused.  
"Don't mewl like that," he scolded, "it makes you seem weak-pathetic."  
Hermione flinched, but extended a hand as if reaching for him.  
"You'll at least stay until I'm asleep?"  
He stood, contemplating. He could walk out right then and never see the mortal girl again, with her large brown eyes consuming him with that look. His interest was piqued, though. She was thirsty for knowledge, ready to question authority, not afraid to ask questions, obviously intelligent for her age...magical on top of it...  
Loki went to the other side of the bed, crawled in behind her and took up one of her hands once more.

"Thank you," Hermione whispered.  
"Think nothing of it," he murmured as her breathing slowed and evened. His own eyelids felt heavy about then. He hoped Naryu would be back soon.


	5. In The Light of Day

**Ch. 4: In The Light of Day**

**A/N: Ok guys, so I decided to try something new and hope y'all like it. Instead of placing a main chapter quote, I have inserted quotes in the text, which will be bolded, and have a ~ symbol beside of it for anyone whose device(s) will not make the bolding show up. The "fun" if you will, is in guessing or figuring out where the quotes come from. They're from many diverse fandoms, although I admit some I may use throughout this story may just be quotes. But, _but, _that I will try to avoid. The point of views are obvious to me, but I wrote them, so if anything is ever confusing, please PM me, and please PM me if you see any revisions that need to be made in spelling, grammar, etc., and I'll let you know if anything that seems ridiculous was supposed to be that way or if it's an honest mistake. This promises to be a rather long one. For those of you reading _Nightshade_, I haven't given up, I'm just taking a little break and my sweet time writing the next chapter because Umbitch- I mean _Umbridge_, frankly gets on my damn nerves, I hate her with a passion, and I have to be in the right mood to write with her present because she pisses me off and I might end up killing everyone off and writing the apocolypse because of her! :)**

**Thanks, R and R!**

**_Hem, Hem!_ Pay attention! The intermission is over! ^-^**

* * *

The pain was gone. That was the first conscious, coherent thought. The pain was gone. The fever was gone, too. Her muscles ached and her eyes itched, but she could live with that. After all, you took a few trifling conditions after you heard a doctor tell your weepy parents that you probably had a week to live and that an infection and an unknown, dangerous bug were destroying your body along with the simple disease they knew infested you. She wriggled her toes, delighted that there was a response.

Wriggling her fingers alerted her to their position. Hermione slowly cracked her eyes open. There was that delicious cool still in contact with her hand, and peering downward, she could spot her hand curled inside of another, paler hand. She inhaled, shifting her face, immediately being hit with the sliding of soft fabric against her cheek and an unknown fragrance. Her eyes opened wider, blinking against the fuzzy lighting until her sight cleared, tearing to wash away the sick caked around them.

She realized a few things at once:  
1. Loki Odinson had outdone his promise.  
2. She was facing the direction in which he lay.  
3. He was facing the direction in which _she_ lay.  
4. Her face was pressed flat against Loki's chest.  
5. Loki smelled nice.  
6. His skin was very, _very_ soft.

Their cupped hands lay between them in the bed. Something she noted latently, and embarrassingly enough, was that her other hand had somehow reached above her head from underneath her body and the pillows that propped it up to rest near his head and face. She stretched out one finger hesitantly, hardly daring to breathe as the tip trailed a line down the side of his face to the corner of his mouth, around his pursed lips and back. She paused a moment, then began tentatively stroking his hair. Her hand jerked to a halt as a strange purr erupted and he smiled in his sleep.

He tipped his cheek into her palm, brushing the lines of the fine, high bones against it. Hermione bit her lip. She figured she should wake him, but he seemed so at peace that it frightened her to do so. She bent towards his ear, whispering softly and shaking him lightly. "Loki, Loki Odinson, wake up."

His eyes blinked open, the color making her gasp. It was the first time Hermione would see his eyes flash a beautiful, rich, chaotic amethyst at her. When his gaze focused, the peculiar coloring was gone, replaced by a speckled sea of silvery teal.  
"Hello there," she whispered. He opened his mouth to say something, but Naryu's voice broke the silence first. "Well, I see you two are awake."

Both of them jumped, searching the room with their gazes until they landed upon Naryu's form draped casually across the visitors' chair in the corner, a drink cup on the table and a snack wrapper in her lap. She had a book in hand, obviously intent on reading. She hadn't even spared them the smallest of glances, continuing on as she had been. Hermione wrinkled her nose.  
**~" Why'd you let me fall asleep?"** Loki shot at her, not coming out as crossly as it might have.  
**~"Because I am an awesome ****sister**_. _**What did you dream about**_?"_ she inquired politely  
~"**Lollipops and candy canes**," Loki lied sarcastically.

"You mean heard. You heard us," Hermione cut in to curb the rising quarrel. Naryu tsked, answering the girl. "Technicalities: who needs them?"  
"We use them all of the time," Loki remarked.  
"Ouch, true," Naryu replied. "Touché; now, be a good little prince and leave me to my consumption of unsavory villains and fantasy adventures."

Loki snorted. "Yes, O Queen," he simpered sardonically. Hermione hid her faint smile.  
"What are you reading?" she asked tentatively. Naryu's brown eyes appeared over the edge of the red covered volume, eyebrows raised only slightly.  
"_Inkspell_, although, despite my tizzy with my brother, I think my attentions rather rest with something else entirely."

Loki watched expectantly as Naryu pulled a smooth, round, flawless silver object from her pocket and began tilting it every which way, eyeing it intently.  
"What's she doing?" Hermione leaned to whisper in Loki's ear sotto voce. He turned to her, tipped his head as if considering and then waved his hand. When he spoke, it was in a normal tone and Naryu took no heed.  
"There, now she can't be disturbed by our chatter."  
"Magic?" Hermione whispered in awe. Loki's lips quirked but he merely gave a curt jerk of his head as conformation. Gesturing at Naryu, he began explaining quietly.  
"She is using a Sight Stone to observe the stars, my curious mort-_Hermione_. You see, she's looking for her name among the stars. Among her people, it reveals the path to her destiny."

As he finished, Naryu uttered a frustrated growl, angrily stuffing the object back into the pocket of her cloak. The silencing charm was either broken or worked only one way, as she could clearly be heard. "Still all a garbled jumble of Gobbledygook!"

Loki rose rather gracefully from the bed for a seven year old, even if in their dimension on Midgard he might very well be either seventy or seven hundred, depending on how their time frequencies aligned. He waved his hand, obviously dismissing the UnHeard magic, perching next to Naryu like a cat and draping a consoling arm about her shoulders.  
"You know it's not that simple," he whispered in a gentle tone Hermione surmised no one else heard, wiping away a single tear of frustration Naryu shed in a tender gesture that Hermione presumed no one else ever saw.  
"I know," she sighed wearily. "It's just that I try _so hard_ and nothing works...~**I cannot see the future yet...The world is still to be determined**...for me, at least."  
"Shhh, all will be revealed at the correct time or juncture," he murmured into her hair, leaning their heads together for comfort.

Right around that moment, the doctor chose to come in to, presumably, do her rounds and check on Hermione. She was pretty, dark skinned, dark eyed and curly haired.  
"How are you feeling today?" she asked, her voice trilling, checking Hermione's chart and vitals.  
"You're much better I see."  
" I'm feeling much better," the girl responded clearly, her voice obviously stronger than it had been.  
"Good, good," she said appreciatively, "you should be able to leave tomorrow. I want to keep you today and overnight for observation and until you regain your strength. You should be feeling drowsy on and off for a bit longer."

With that said, she left the room, quite satisfied. Hermione's head swiveled toward the corner chair where Loki was still placating an upset Naryu. They were both quiet, having some wordless communication. "She can't see you," she blurted. Loki and Naryu lifted their heads.  
"Nor can she hear us," Naryu confirmed, adding, "Neither can any who we do not wish...or who have lying eyes as to what is."  
That confused Hermione a bit, but she pressed her lips together, allowing the cogs of her brain to work hard rather than her tongue.

"You called him your brother," Hermione said slowly, directing the question at Naryu, who tilted her head for her to continue, "You said that, yet he said-" here, she turned to Loki, addressing him in turn-"_You_ said _her_ people...so...so that means-"  
"That I am adopted, yes," Naryu supplied calmly, gifting her a smile. "Although most assume the 'duchess' is a bastard child of either Frigga or Odin, an illegitimate heir taken in over any others that might exist. Whenever they cannot convince themselves I favor one of their beloved rulers, it is merely assumed that I resemble my other parent."  
The last phrases were sarcastic and mocking, but surprisingly free of bitterness. She continued.  
"It's easier for them to swallow their own lies and wrong assumptions than nurse the hurt pride that, instead of adopting an Asgardian or political orphan, some strange child, some waif, was."

Hermione opened her mouth, but Naryu cut in, seemingly knowing what she would ask.  
"Oh, they like me well enough, that's for sure, and by now I've earned my..._worth_-" the word twisted her mouth "-but I'll never be what they can envision. It's all right. It's better if they think I'm Frigga's because of my sight and knowing, or Odin's because of how his hair used to look."

Loki appeared deeply sympathetic. Naryu looked to him. "Although, many lean toward Frigga more frequently, don't they? What with the precognition and such..."  
"Yes," he replied, "I'd believe it myself if I didn't know better."  
"Cheeky charmer, your serpent tongue doesn't always have to agree with me," she jested faintly.  
"I believe the term is Silvertongue," he corrected loftily. She shrugged. "No matter. I wouldn't have my best friend if Father-Odin- hadn't rescued me from sniveling in the cold at three or four. Mother-Frigga that is-is the only mother I know, and he the only father. I'm ever so grateful..."

"Don't you miss your own family?" Hermione asked sadly. To her immense surprise, Naryu laughed.  
"The Sylph don't have a family structure in ways you would recognize. From the time a youngling is born, they're put in the nursery like sea turtles on a beach in Midgard and are expected to leave when their soul tells them they're ready-always at a young age mind you-and until then stick together. They-we, us, my people- leave their parents at a young age and come back after they find their place in the universe. It's not unusual to leave as a toddler, to explore or wander wherever the night and wind may whisper and not return- though the concept may at first be confusing the younger the youngling is, as there is that strong tie to home. So it wouldn't be out of place for me to have gone exploring at three or four and wander around and not go home immediately, which of course I fully realize now. It's encouraged, actually, the leaving. The earlier you go, the longer you may search.

"The knowing-your self -awareness, of who you are, what you are, your full name-is revealed to you at age five exactly, the minute you turn. It just sort of falls into your head as if it were always there, waiting. Most of us, myself included, knew our own names from an early age anyway, even if we didn't know it was to search for our destiny."

Hermione sat quietly, absorbing all of the new data like a sponge, an impressionable mold.  
"So...how do parents work? Do you or would you...know or remember them?"

Naryu exhaled slowly. "Some of us have vague memories. After we find our place it's our duty to find others that share our name ourselves. I personally have no memories of them, and anything before my full coming into knowing is blurry at best, for the most part."  
She shot Loki a look. He had been listening idly, as if he had heard it all before, and Hermione realized with a jolt that he probably had. His eyes were a stormy, melancholy silver grey.

"Why tell me all of this?" Hermione inquired quietly.  
"I'm just a girl you'll likely never see again after this charity."  
"This wasn't random charity," Loki sniffed as if appalled she seemed to harbor any such thoughts.  
"My sister assures me you're special somehow, important to us. I failed to see how, but...you _do_ have a certain...charm, an appeal if you will."  
**~"La tua cantante,"** Naryu muttered, Loki seemingly not hearing in his new eagerness as he leaned toward Hermione.

"I felt your magic, we both did, and that..._connection_ was rather nice," he divulged as his sister stared off into space.  
"My magic?" Hermione queried, nonplussed, to which Loki answered with a sly grin.  
"Oh _what fun_ we can have, you, me, and my sister," he stated with relish, eyes going a mossy periwinkle.  
"I have magic?" Hermione tried again, succeeding in garnering his attention.  
"Oh, why _yes_," he affirmed enthusiastically.  
"Naryu's explained magical Melding-combing power and magic-and to her understanding, since she's learning just like me, if with two more years of study and tutors on the subject, it works better when you feel a zing."

"A...zing?" Hermione asked hesitantly. Loki seemed to sober suddenly.  
"You see, Naryu and I are compatible, but apparently some people's magical signatures unite better...like..."  
"A pair of socks," Naryu put in where he left off, having come back from her trance. She eyed Loki.  
"I see you've changed your mind. Anything to better yourself, with the means meeting the ends. You must have been sitting there figuring it all out. Is that incorrect, O one called _'The Sly One'_?"

Loki flushed deeply, scowling down at the floor for having been caught. Naryu patted his knee.  
"Neved mind. Perhaps friendship can rise out of this vessel of ambition yet."  
**"Ambition is ambition even in the light of day,**" he responded.~  
**~"Well, I don't believe it. You're not perfect. You could be wrong**," Naryu countered.  
Loki smirked, " **Maybe, but I'm not."~**  
"Well," Naryu pondered candidly as she summoned a bottle of pop out of the mini-fridge**~, "you sort of start thinking anything's possible if you've got enough nerve."**

"You're starting to sound like our dear brother Thor," Loki drawled, somewhat distastefully, summoning a pop bottle as well. Almost as an afterthought, one zoomed to Hermione, who didn't know who to thank. They sat in silence, sipping the brown pop. Hermione's hand shook slightly, but held.  
"I don't believe I caught your name," Naryu said after a fashion.  
"Oh-," Hermione said, "It's-"  
"Hermione," Loki replied for her, trailing his eyes from the window out of which he had been staring broodingly to regard the girl in question, "though I know not by what else she is called."

"Erm," Hermione began, choking slightly on her pop, "Hermione Jean Granger."  
"Granger...that's right, you'd have last names like my people," Naryu commented. "What are your parents' names?"  
"Benjamin Grant Granger and Jean Rosalie Granger, formerly Foster."  
"Those are nice names," Naryu complimented kindly.  
"For _Midgardians_," Loki added in a stage mutter. Naryu shot him a dirty look.  
"Do you have a pet name?" Naryu asked for conversation, eyes glinting in satisfaction as Loki rubbed the spot in which she had elbowed him.  
"Well..." Hermione began hesitantly, "it's so ridiculous it's embarrassing...but my family uses "My" as mine. It started because when we were very little, that's all I and my sister Rosalie could say of my name. We call her Rose."  
"Interesting," Loki noted in a tone that said anything but. He sprang onto his feet and began pacing.

"Uh-oh," Naryu said, eyes twinkling as they followed him.  
"Uh-oh what?" Hermione asked apprehensively.  
"Loki is bored," she gave as explanation. At Hermione's blank stare, she added, "You're about to see the results very soon, very soon indeed."

Just then, his head rose, and Hermione was subjected to a would -be infamous grin, a face-splitting, eye twinkling beam of pure... Divine chaos or beautiful insanity to make the heart sing, she wasn't sure...perhaps a bit of both, if she was honest. Although the smile she was subjected to that day lacked the absolute mad, deadly, potency of a predator.

Naryu stirred somewhere to her right, whispering quietly, seemingly to herself.

"Anyone up for a little game?" Loki asked no one in particular.

"What kind of game?" Hermione found herself asking, and slightly wishing she hadn't when the grin grew wider yet.

"Let's play," Loki said, the innocent childish request sounding devious when he offered it.

* * *

A/N: A few other things: If any part of a **quote** is underlined, it means that part of the quote had to be altered slightly to make sense in a particular situation. I know, a lot of dialogue, but at least you learned some important things, and there'll be more action next chapter, I promise! Now that no one is dying as of now and everyone is properly acquainted, the shenanigans can begin! If there are any questions, PM me or ask in a review and I shall be happy to answer them.

This_** D****isclaimer charm**_ is valid by: End of story and covers any companions, prequels, sequels, or funny and or charming asides.


	6. Inception

**The Remnant Prince**

A/N: Revisions have been made to the early chapters of this, and as such the use of quotes throughout the chapters has been utilized, the original chapter encompassing starters stripped. The guessing game is as follows, as explained in the previous chapter, along with a few other pointers:

Instead of placing a main chapter quote, I have inserted quotes in the text, which will be **bolded**, and have a ~ symbol beside of it for anyone whose device(s) will not make the bolding show up. The "fun" if you will, is in guessing or figuring out where the quotes come from. They're from many diverse fandoms, although I admit some I may use throughout this story may just be quotes. But, _but_, that I will try to avoid. The point of views are obvious to me, but I wrote them, so if anything is ever confusing, please PM me, and please PM me if you see any revisions that need to be made in spelling, grammar, etc., and I'll let you know if anything that seems ridiculous was supposed to be that way or if it's an honest mistake.

* * *

_Ch. 5: Inception_

"What about my clothes?" Hermione fretted. Loki looked her over once, snapping his fingers. Her hospital gown changed into a not-so-unflattering dress, boots appearing on her feet.  
"Will that please you?" he asked smugly.  
"I-" she stuttered.  
"Good," he replied for her.

It was odd for Hermione to have no one question them as they walked through the hospital. She hurried after Loki and Naryu, not wanting to be left awkwardly behind and unsure of how far their magic extended around them, who she should be closer to or who was cloaking her.  
"What about my parents," Hermione gasped.  
"What about them?" Loki quipped nonchalantly, leaning against the wall as Naryu pressed the elevator button.  
"They're diverted," Naryu responded, shooting Loki a mild glance of reproach.  
"Thank you," Hermione admitted gratefully. Loki huffed, looking out at the floor they were leaving.

The doors slid open suddenly with a ding. The three stepped on together. Hermione's stomach suddenly grumbled loudly. Her cheeks flamed in embarrassment. She earned a look of sympathy from Naryu and raised brows from Loki. As soon as the doors opened, he pushed past his sister and new acquaintance wordlessly. They followed curiously. He had stopped in front of one of the lobby vending machines with some type of superior confidant hesitance about him, still somehow regal.  
"Will something from this suite you?" he shot over his shoulder. Hermione and Naryu came to stand on either side of him.

Hermione, for her part, was surprised.  
"You've already basically healed me and now you're...buying me breakfast?"  
A devilish smirk crossed Loki's face.  
"Who said anything about paying?"  
Hermione opened her mouth, but quickly closed it. With somewhat wordless defeat, she pointed at a Danish. Five seconds later, not only was she unwrapping it, but it was warmed, courtesy of her new associates. A mumbled "thanks" around the Danish in her mouth, the new trio exited the hospital and began walking down the street.

Loki's bright eyes, then an emerald-envy green, were darting around in anticipation. Hermione swallowed thickly, quickly devouring the Danish, astonished at her ravenous behavior. Pushing her bushy hair behind her ear absentmindedly, she stepped a few feet away to peer into a shop window while Naryu and Loki changed the help wanted signs in the storefront window directly across the street.

A younger boy, perhaps five, ran past, chasing a rapidly escaping ball. Car horns sounded. Hermione's head snapped up to see a car desperately trying to warn him before it came to him, unable to swerve due to traffic. The boy, on his part, was terrified, rooted to the spot in what could only be described as utter fright. Without thinking, Hermione started to dart out into the street for him.

A cool hand snatched her back by her hand, fingers coiled around hers, clutching tightly. There was a rushing warmth, a thrill at the contact, fire spreading up her arm to her armpit. Everything seemed to slow down surreally, time, motion, particles, heartbeats. Seconds converted to microseconds. There was a peculiar buzzing inside of her head-although not unpleasant. Just as abruptly, everything returned to normal. Glancing around, she saw that the car had gone past. Naryu was talking to some strange woman who looked like she might be the little boy's mother, the little boy himself gripping his mother's legs tightly in the circle of his arms, the ball forgotten.

A cool gush of peppermint breath glided across her ear as someone leaned in to whisper in it.  
"That was a close call, *My. I don't know you a full day, and I'm already saving you from rushing recklessly headlong into imminent danger just as with my idiot brother."  
Hermione blushed, bowing her head, which made her notice that it was Loki who held her hand loosely yet tightly, his long, pale fingers intertwined with hers.  
"The boy, how-"  
"Naryu swooped in like one of their so called angels she tells me they believe in," Loki drawled. Something else occurred to Hermione.

"The other thing, did you feel it, when we...connected again?"  
"Yes," Loki replied with quiet eagerness. Hermione slowly let her head rise to find his eyes. They were that furious emerald envy, sparkling with life.  
"What else-" Hermione swallowed nervously, her mouth suddenly dry "-what else do you think we can do, Loki?"  
His eyes glimmered hungrily as they scorched her face, her willingness and equal curiosity evident, her fascination etched as clearly as his.  
"I'd bet entire worlds on what we could do together."

Hermione's too-intelligent-for-her-age mind was working furiously, her mature yet childish heart beating frantically and squeezing faintly.  
"I'd like very much to try with a brilliant person like you," she whispered, not willing to say _god_, even if she understood the concept. All of the stories clearly had embellishments...Loki was clearly set in a child's mindset, as were his peers by the way he spoke...yet they weren't. He and Naryu at least had a sharp, vibrant intellect she longed for in her own peers who teased her for her bookish pursuits and her name.

"You teach me," she started firmly, "and I'll teach you. I know we're different, so our magic has to be, even if I didn't know I had it before. But, oh, it explains so much...I don't feel quite so out of place, even if you don't like books or quiet like I do-"  
"_Books_?" Loki interrupted excitedly, seeming to forget himself for a moment in childish delight, "I love books, and magic. I thought Naryu was the only one, and don't misunderstand me, she's the highlight of my life in Asgard, people-wise, besides Mother...until now. "

"I-" Hermione stuttered, the one syllable catching in her suddenly dry throat. **~"It is not enough to have a good mind, the main thing is to use it well**," she choked. There was a look deep in his eyes, a too-hopeful, melancholy look children "their age" never had. **~It was the look of resolved longing.  
The kind of look you get when you realize that the one thing you loved most in the world can never be yours.** The worst part was, he didn't seem to be aware of it, even in the fervor he was in, the fix he had, as he stared her down. It dawned on her painfully throbbing seven and a half year old heart that for some time, he had been searching blindly for someone else like him, for acceptance and understanding. _For an equal_, she thought wildly. The little cogs of her brain turned as she realized that no matter how alike Naryu was, she was his sister, adopted or not.

An awareness spread through all of Hermione's nerve endings, from the soles of her feet to her brain, a hidden, curious awareness that she was fiercely glad of two distant things: one being that _Loki had found her_, chosen her, in a way, as if by fate, and secondly, the burning satisfaction that she _was not_ his sister in any way, shape, or form.  
~_**La tua cantante**_, Hermione thought. She was a witch, he was a...god, for lack of a better word at that moment, and Naryu was something called a Sylph that she would have to research. They were apparently both immortal somethings from another dimension.

Realizing that their hands were still rather indisposed, Hermione twitched her fingers gently. Loki blinked, calming down some for the time at hand. He stared at her face a moment longer, slowly lowering his expressive eyes to their hands. His thumb was rubbing slow, steady circles across the back of her hand and her knuckles unconsciously. Neither had noticed. His head jerked up, thin lips parted to speak when Naryu came over.  
"Hope I'm not interrupting, but we need to move on from here. Too much attention was drawn that we can't simply vanish, especially since we just seemed to pop into existence, as no one noticed us, and there're to many loose threads to alter *all of their memories."

Loki dropped Hermione's hand without a word, swaggering onward without pausing to see if they were following.  
"Don't take it personally," Naryu muttered, urging her onward with them. "Sometimes his swings give _me_ whiplash."  
"Something happen?" Hermione deduce rather swiftly, cursing her brightness. Naryu sucked on her straight white teeth. "You could say that. You could also correctly say that **~indifference and neglect often do much more damage than outright dislike**...or that favoritism stings. I just know that it can't be good to hold everything in on the pretense of trying to be strong. **~Numbing the pain for a while will make it worse when you finally feel it."**

Though bright, the other girl had lost Hermione when going all philosophical on her. She sounded wise beyond her years to the young witch, and full of pain and sorrow not entirely her own. Loki grabbed her hand once they caught up to him on the curb, startling her so that she yelped.  
**~"Don't flatter yourself**," he murmured, smirking, observing a similar effect to the one before when they had locked hands. The trio continued walking, Hermione not sure as to where quite yet, Naryu and Loki changing signs' wording, switching around parking and meter tickets, stripping mannequins or swapping their clothes, changing traffic light intervals; every once in a while, Loki would grab Hermione's hand again. Car alarms went off up and down one street, traffic temporarily slowing and the neighborhood dogs going wild. All the while, Loki's grin was that between a scientist and a small boy experimenting.

A few blocks down, the painter overhead on the ladder accidentally knocked a bucket over. Their hands clasped, Loki and Hermione threw them upward in a twin reaction. The paint froze midair in a beautiful arc. Naryu, a pace ahead to gaze into a Divination store, turned to stare curiously for a moment.  
"Nice," she commented as if it were a pair of shoes before waving her hand to right the mess herself with a smile.  
"_We_ could've gotten that," Loki pouted.  
"Yes, but you're being a total-show off," Naryu chided, "and besides, someone has to monitor the cloak while I clean the spills."

Loki shrugged, loosing Hermione once more.  
"Where's the best bookstore?" Naryu asked as they resumed their stroll. Hermione lit up instantly.  
"_Well_..."she began.

By the time they reached _Cromwell's: Book Emporium and Manuscriptorium_, the three of them had between them more tricks: a chicken fiasco, an incident with feathers, the creation of a small swamp-like patch/area by the pizzeria and shoe Shoppes that might have been left to boggle the poor owners, toads in the potato salad at a picnic they hadn't been invited to, torment of a grumpy old teacher, old ladies underwear, several small fires, slowed traffic and a bit of mannequin swapping.

Hermione pushed the door open excitedly, the bell jingling overhead. The building was large, the small sound lost in the low murmur of hushed voices and the soft muffled glide of feet over carpet. Hermione became entranced at once, as usual for her, trailing her finger an inch above the titles she passed. The bookish dark was welcoming. Ink, binding, seals, pages old and new...the scents enfolded her gently, a beckon home. A title caught her eye. Fingering it thoughtfully, she pulled it down. _Matilda_.

It was a fresh copy, the spine unbent, the cover smudge free and the pages crinkle-less. She'd read the first chapter and become enchanted with the story. Hermione walked down the aisle, selecting nothing else. _Matilda_ was clutched tightly flat against her chest. She came to the end of the long row, walking past the shelves until she reached the reading and lounging section. She found a squashy purple armchair with a floral pattern and snuggled in, cracking open _Matilda_ with a smile.

The story of the smart, bookish, highly intelligent little girl who was either strongly telekinetic or magical struck a chord deep within Hermione. She closed the book reverently, immensely pleased after devouring it for an hour. There was burning desire scorching her from inside out. She knew-or at least hoped- she could do a few of the things mentioned between the newly pressed pages of her now favorite novel. She didn't know the first thing about real magic or abilities, let alone her own. Yet she had _felt_ it, seen the product of what she could do with Loki at the least. She stared hard at a set of encyclopedias, concentrating. Five minutes later, sweat beading at her temples, she was ready to give up and admit defeat. The large tomes giving a slight shake quickly changed her mind.

"You should be more careful," Loki's smooth voice chided lightly from nearby. Her concentration breached, the small movement stopped. What mattered to Hermione, though, was that it had occurred at all.  
"Pot meet kettle," she replied, watching as he slunk casually into view. They were alone in the section.  
"Touché," he noted with apparent approval.  
"But can you do it again?"  
"I think it'll be easier than the first time I tried," she replied thoughtfully, "I mean, since I kind of know what to expect now."  
"'Know what you want, and let yourself have it.' That's what my sister always tells me," Loki instructed, leaning his knees against the coffee table.

"You could just sit down you know," Hermione said after a moment. Loki tilted his head.  
"Oh, I know. But where's the fun in doing what's expected and what everyone else does?"  
"What's the harm in doing something in a less complicated, less complex, formula of action?"  
Loki appeared at ease with her, even as if he enjoyed himself in her company to some extent.  
"Are we...friends?" Hermione asked tentatively. Loki seemed to consider once his initial quiet disbelief wore off.  
"Are friends useful?" he inquired curiously.  
"It's not about being useful. It's about complicated things you can't pay or make or pretend."  
Loki shrugged. "I don't know. I barely know you."  
"So maybe we could be?" Hermione asked with an evident edge of hope in her voice.  
"It's a possibility," Loki said softly, tilting his head to study her, "Especially with you. You're not like these other dull creatures."

"Should I be flattered?" Hermione breathed.  
"Very. Who else can say a god thinks they're not poke-your-eyeballs-out boring?"  
"Point taken...Loki."

Loki smiled widely, moving to sit beside of her in the chair. Their knees pressing together, he handed her one of the books he had brought with him. The two bookworms commenced reading in silence. Naryu came along not long after, perching in a chair near them after one glance at their comfortable arrangement.

~ **There are some things you can't share without ending up liking each other**, Hermione decided mentally. If she had voiced it, she might have found out someone was in agreement with her.


	7. The Letters

The Remnant Prince

_Act Two ~ School Play and The Butterfly Effect_

_Chaos theory is a field of study in mathematics, with applications in several disciplines including meteorology, physics, engineering, economics and biology. Chaos theory studies the behavior of dynamical systems that are highly sensitive to initial conditions, an effect which is popularly referred to as the butterfly effect. Small differences in initial conditions (such as those due to rounding errors in numerical computation) yield widely diverging outcomes for such dynamical systems, rendering long-term prediction impossible in general. This happens even though these systems are deterministic, meaning that their future behavior is fully determined by their initial conditions, with no random elements involved. In other words, the deterministic nature of these systems does not make them predictable. This behavior is known as deterministic chaos, or simply chaos. This was summarized by Edward Lorenz as follows:_

_Chaos: When the present determines the future, but the approximate present does not approximately determine the future._

* * *

**Ch.6: The Letters**

"Who are you talking to?" Rosalie asked curiously, peeking around the edge of the door, a splotch of red paint smeared across her left cheek, chalk smudging her nose. A charcoal pencil was held behind one ear, a paintbrush behind the other. She wore an old paint-splattered flowered apron over her tie-died overalls, curly hair doused in glitter and pulled into a messy bun.  
"No one," Hermione said matter-of-factly, keeping a straight face until her sister was gone. Then the laughter started, and it wouldn't stop bubbling forth. This was probably due to the hoots and chortles coming from her closet. They had discovered long ago that Rosalie had some sixth sense or other. They couldn't just use the same glamour they used for anyone else. They were wary with her, not knowing if she was magical or intuitive, so a stronger glamour was formed, one other magical entities could not penetrate.

Hermione hurriedly closed her door, turning the lock and using a trick Loki had shown her to hold it fast with magic so it couldn't be budged from the other side.  
"You learn fast," he said from behind her, voice sweet like honey and as smooth as stones in a river. Hermione loved hearing that praising tone-rather that than any jeering taunt at failure she feared receiving.

She turned. He stood in front of her bookshelf appraisingly, not turning to face her even as she rummaged in her night table drawer for a hairband. Eyes darting around and tendrils of magic feeling, she realized something fairly quickly. Naryu was not present. Naryu and Loki had taught her about auras and magical signatures. It appeared Loki had gotten his way and persuaded his sister into not accompanying him. She itched to ask him how he had accomplished it, but feared the closed expression that would overcome him if a subject that he did not wish to broach arose.

Seemingly hearing her thoughts, he said, "Naryu's off exploring by herself-I know not where."  
He seemed to pout at the thought of mischief done without him, but when he glanced at her, he was smiling. Hermione smiled back. A playfulness seemed to tug at the corner of his mouth. She bent to retrieve a pair of socks from another drawer.  
"And," he added, almost as an afterthought, "just thought you might like to know...I _can_ hear you, and so can Naryu. She's just polite."  
"Prat," Hermione said absently as she searched for her shoes underneath the bed.

"Looking for these?" Loki asked innocently. Hermione's hand stilled, her head snapping up. Loki held her trainers delicately, dangling them by their laces.  
"You've been hiding them from me, haven't you?" Hermione asked, sitting back on her hands.  
"Maybe," he said vaguely, floating them to her. She rolled her eyes, grabbing them from midair and stuffing her feet into them.  
"Rather counterproductive, don't you think?" she said with a slight trace of irritation.

Loki shrugged, perching on her bed. His eyes followed her as she grabbed a jacket off of the chair in the corner. She missed the greediness in them while her back was turned retrieving her messenger bag. She faced him, crossing her arms across her chest.  
"I'm ready now."  
"And your sister?" he inquired boredly, picking at a loose thread from her comforter.

"Oh, can't we just _go_ already, Sly?"  
Loki hopped up, smirking at the nickname.  
"I thought you'd never say so."  
" Come on then, before she leaves her studio again."  
Hermione crept to the door, listening. After a moment, she cautiously cracked it. Rosalie could be heard down the hall, murmuring to herself as she painted. With a quick hand motion, the glamour flew into place and Hermione led Loki down the stairs and out of the back door, careful to close the screen quietly. They made their way across the backyard quickly, latching the gate into place and stepping into the small wood that backed their neighborhood.

She kept her silence until they neared the tortoise rock by the tiny creek meandering through the trees.  
"In all of these years...you've yet to take me to Asgard, you know?"  
Loki huffed. "I've told you I can't right now."  
Hermione's brows scrunched in long suffered frustration. She leaned her back against the base of the rock, observing the young Asgardian before her.  
"Why ever not?" she almost snapped. It had been a sore subject between them, resulting in quite a few rows, and through it all she had failed to get a straight answer out of him.  
"Surely it would not bring trouble to Asgard?" she posed. A thought struck her as his face soured.

"You don't want me there."  
His continued silence was enough. Hermione's breath caught painfully. "Why?"  
Loki tuned his face from her, eyes glinting a flat, hard gray and midnight blue. She pushed herself off of the rock, stepping forward until she was directly in front of him. "I said, _why_?"  
His stormy eyes slid to focus on her, roving up and down her form.  
"You must ask yourself _why_ any selfish creature by nature would not want to keep his treasure guarded from all others."  
Her mouth worked, her brow furrowing as she thought that over.  
"You're saying," she began slowly, feeling the beginnings of a blush, "that you don't want to...to..._to_ _share_ _me_?"

When his jaw clenched, his own face flushing, her eyes widened.  
"That's actually very sweet of you," she said quietly.  
"No one's ever wanted me before-not properly. My family loves me, but they've never understood...Rose has always been more invested in her dreams and fantasies to notice...she isn't like me, really..."  
He swallowed, sliding past her to stare petulantly into the water. She followed him, watching as he gazed at their reflection. She watched her own hand rise to rest lightly on his shoulder.  
"You don't have to worry. As long as I'm living, you'll always have a special place no one can impose on, supersede or obliterate. I'm not eager to play with new team-mates either."  
He quirked a smile at that, but it quickly faltered.  
"That'll all change," he whispered. "You'll make new connections. There's a whole world that belongs to you that hasn't claimed you yet."  
Hermione squeezed his shoulder gently.  
"I do believe I know myself well enough to know nothing will change. No one will take your place. There will always be two things-us and them."  
"You say that now."

"Sly..."  
He turned to her sharply, laying his chilled hand over hers.  
_"Mene, Mene, Tekel, Upharsin,"_ he murmured.  
"The writing on the wall? Please-this won't be the end of things as we know it."  
"Perhaps," he seemed to muse momentarily, "but surely it will be my doom, or _fate_, if you will, to be accursed and alone."

Hermione moved the hand on his shoulder, catching his between her fingers. She brought it between them, palm upward.  
"I see no Mark of Cain."  
He folded his fingers closed over his palm. A silence fell, but before either could utter anything more, a great tawny owl swooped down, barely missing them in their proximity and perching on the stump to their right.

It hooted urgently, great eyes on Hermione as it extended its leg. A large envelope was tied to it.  
_"Mene, Mene,"_ Loki muttered. Hermione registered the comment with some confusion. The owl ruffled huffily, and Hermione realized it was waiting for her to take the burden it bore. Loki snapped his fingers and the envelope flew into her hands, breaking the twine in the process.

She stared at the slanting script in which her name and exact address had been written.  
"Well-aren't you going to open it?" Loki snapped in some form of vicious anticipation. Casting a curious glance at him, she slid her finger along the flap to pull up the seal, wincing when the paper sliding across her finger suddenly bit into her skin.  
"Ow," she mumbled, dropping the envelope at her feet. Nursing her cut finger (on which the paper cut stung rather nastily) she bent to retrieve the mail. A pale hand flashed past her, holding it out to her. She blinked at Loki. "Thanks."

She took the envelope more carefully the second time, successfully opening it. A drop of blood stood out against the yellowed material. Inside lay a letter and supply list, the contents of which she relayed to Loki aloud, along with a separate slip explaining the magical world and her standing.  
"You're to go to school, then?" he asked softly once her voice had faded into silence. "Away from here."  
She looked at him, saw the distress clearly before his eyes hardened.

He glared out across the creek, seeing nothing**. "~Look at that**-," he blurted suddenly, and she peered around wildly to see what he indicated, relived when he continued, **"~calm, quiet, peaceful...isn't it hateful?"  
**  
He spun, grabbing onto her wrist fiercely.  
"What are you doing-that hurts."  
He loosened his grip but maintained his hold.  
"Maybe I _should_ take you to Asgard-share what's mine before the stooges ship you away, make you think you don't still have your potential, make you more like them-lifeless and identical."  
"Loki-this is madness!" she exclaimed, using his real name. "I'm still me!"  
He pulled her closer so that there was nothing to distract her from his eyes, an entrancing mossy amethyst. "But are you still _mine_, my dear Hermione?"

She trembled. It sounded so much deeper than the friendship they had: it went beyond comradeship, and it was not a sister-brother occurrence-Naryu was his sister. She was something else. He made it sound as if their bond were being severed forever, as if he would be torn in two. How could he expect her to change so much and forget him?  
"Have you no faith in me?" she whispered. Weren't they supposed to be eleven, almost twelve? Wasn't he ages unto ages older than she, even if her dimension's time was skewed from the other Midgard? It all made her weak. She felt like she was drowning.

"Come with me," he whispered into her hair as he hugged her. "I want you to choose me and not them. I'm offering you more than your imagination could spur into existence."  
Hermione leaned back enough to see him properly, then hugged him in return. She tipped her head to reply softly in his ear. "Why can I not choose both? Are there only two options?"

He made no sound, drawing back and pushing distance between them.  
"Aren't we friends?" she pressed. His eyes gleamed.  
"Yes," he replied, watching her carefully.  
"Then be happy for me. This isn't farewell, and I know you have ways of finding me. You know I need this-you expected it. You knew before I did what I was. I cherish every single moment. But for some reason, you seem to think I'm going to abandon you."

He turned his face away. "You won't need me anymore."  
"Is this all about need and being needed, what's yours and not yours?" Hermione asked sharply. "I am not property!"  
He looked at her. "No, you're not."  
Hermione deflated slightly. "Then what is all this? What's this afternoon been about?"  
"I don't want to lose you," he confessed quietly, not looking at her. "It's different, when someone is just yours. Not like property...but something that only matters in a certain way to you. Like...masters of each other."

"It's like saying you don't want to lose an equal."  
**"~Are we not equals?"** he queried softly  
He snatched her hand up suddenly. She felt the familiar connection come over them, whispering between them, settling over her like a blanket. When they were like this, they could not lie to each other. He could not close himself off when they were linked so closely.  
"Don't let them make you soft," he told her seriously.  
"Don't let them make you jaded," she responded in an equally serious tone. "Promise me you won't sulk around."  
He grinned abruptly, eyes lavender. "Promise me you'll cause a little disorder."  
A sly grin curled her lips. "Sorry...I'm afraid that's your department...but I suppose the one who doesn't like sharing his things doesn't mind when someone else shares with him."

"Is that an invitation?"  
"Am I too subtle?"  
"Hardly."  
"I guess I better pack my bag of tricks."

* * *

"Spying for your own entertainment is not becoming, Fárbauti."  
She appeared to not be bothered by Odin's intrusion, presence, or remark.  
"Neither is hypocrisy," she retorted, straightening over the large pond at her feet she used for scrying.  
"I do not do this for my own entertainment, Odin."  
"Oh?" he said quizzically. Fárbauti narrowed her eyes at him challengingly.  
"I am only checking on him."  
"I see."

There was a tense moment. Odin sighed.  
"We have long been good friends, Fárbauti. I am one who sees you as you truly are, daily, through that veil of glamour. You wish me to tell him small truths, yet still your own hand in doing so. It is almost as if you hide from the very son you want us to confront."  
Fárbauti bristled. "How dare you! I no more hide from him than from you! How dare you, knowing you have no desire to tell him?"  
"At one time, you wished it so."  
"I wished he could know where he came from, but it was a foolish whim I had as I mourned our loss. We will not know each other for long years to come. I gave him to you, entrusted his care to you to keep him safe, hid myself to keep him safe. I did not even give him his name for fear Laufey would know it and use it against us. He would kill us. Loki is not ready to know the entirety, not when he is so vulnerable. I do wish, though, that he could be told why he is different. You know he feels it. You think the lies will be a comfort to him, but they make him feel worse. The Jotunn blood sets him apart when you try not to, but your attempts are futile. I realize revealing even what I suggest, the mere fact that he is adopted, will raise questions. I realize he may even grow resentful. But what will leaving everything be do? We will step out of the wolves' den and into the tiger's mouth!"

"Is this your chaos theory then? That this is a better place to roll the theoretical ball down the hill?"

A feral snarl curled in Fárbauti's throat.  
"Do not try me," she hissed, her eyes sparking dangerously like flint. Odin held out his hands.  
"Peace, peace."

"That's all you think of, precious peace. What particles of sorrow does this bring those you should protect?"  
"Less than the pains of another war. With you two at hand, lasting peace is forged. Did you not arrange it so yourself?"  
"Do not tell me that!" she snapped, "I am not a child to be talked down to!"  
She pushed past him, sweeping from the room, her long skirts rustling. Odin stared sadly at her, his eye finding the pool. The images she had been viewing had long since stirred back into the depths.  
"You should not rile her so."

He lifted his gaze upward to see Naryu, materializing as if an apparition. Her ringed eyes gleamed. "I, for one, see little difference when you tell him as long as you _do_ tell him, and of course as long as it's all _before_ someone else can."  
"You are a child," he said gruffly. She stood fluidly, her movements like spun silk.  
"Even so," she said calmly in her still-small voice, **~"just because you're older, doesn't mean you're right. It could just mean that you've been wrong for longer**. You have doubts sown deeply like the roots of a weed. You would not admit it, but you know in your heart whom you trust with what and who you groom as a protégé. It is wrong. You would deny it, but even **~you place too much importance... on the so-called purity of blood! You fail to recognize that it matters not what someone is born, but what they grow to be!** Tell me, **~what makes a monster and what makes a man? ~We are only as strong as we are united, as weak as we are divided...and I see that ~time is making fools of us again**...some of us, anyway."

Before Odin could muster a response, she had shifted into a ball of light energy and flown from the room. He turned, only to be confronted again. Frigga stood in the doorway staring at him.  
"A wise king," she whispered softly, "listens to the advice of the small still voices that come and whisper of things even if he does not like to hear them."

"Are you suggesting-"  
"That it is entirely up to you no matter what you may hear or see...such freedom you neglect that I lack. I am chained to this ages unto ages. What will be will be, even if it's not what it seems, what we first thought or what we have seen. Every decision closes thousands of other doors. You fear her chaos theory because it finds fault in us both and questions our very existence. I tell you it holds truth. I tell you if I cannot say either yes or no, I will walk away. I am not a game piece in this chaos. I am a spectator. Such is my burden."

Frigga left quietly. Odin stroked Gungnir thoughtfully.

* * *

Rosalie cocked her head to the side, listening. It was much too quiet for her liking. She set aside her easel, straightened her clothes, and went in search of her sister. She found her nowhere in the house, so she started out of the back door. The woods made her uneasy as she stared out at them from the gate. Gathering her courage, she proceeded into the ferny dark. A squirrel ran across her path, eliciting a tiny squeak from her. She calmed considerably once she realized what it had been, scolding herself in the process. She realized with slight embarrassment that she had leapt about a foot back down the trail. Determined, she set off again.

It didn't take her five minutes to reach the tiny creak meandering through. She stopped when she saw her sister speaking with someone through the trees. She felt appeased slightly that Hermione was all right, but she almost stepped just a tiny bit closer for a better look. A flicker of movement out of the corner of her eye stopped her. An owl dropped down in front of her, an envelope clutched in its beak. It stretched its neck upwards, bobbing its head as if proffering the item.

Curious, she took it. There was a strange wax seal covering the back flap of the yellowed material. She broke it, pulling out three slips of paper. Rosalie began reading them. By the time she was down to the third and final sheet, her hands were shaking. She stumbled against the nearest tree, sliding down the mossy trunk. The girl sat in stunned inaction for a few minutes. It took her a moment to realize someone was speaking to her. She shook her head in an attempt to remove the ringing from her ears.

"Rose, are you all right?"  
Reality flooded back to Rosalie. Hermione crouched in front of her worriedly, rocking on her heels. Wordlessly, Rosalie held up the documents she had managed to keep gripping. Hermione barely spared them a glance once she saw them.  
"You got them too, then?"  
Rosalie nodded numbly. How could her sister be so calm?

"Did you know?" she asked hoarsely.  
"Yes," Hermione said simply. She elaborated no further. "Someone will be coming to explain it to our parents since they're muggles. We should be home when they do. They'll be here soon."

Again, all Rosalie managed to do was nod her head numbly.

"Then let's go home."

She helped her up, and the two walked to the house together. Back at the creek, Loki decided he would wait in her room to learn more. The idea of giving up his time with Hermione-of which he would never admit how much enjoyment he garnered-repulsed him. Was he accursed to never have anything decent of his own, un-poisoned by anyone else or their influence?

* * *

"Let me help you pack."  
Hermione displayed no surprise at the pale hand proffered in her peripheral vision. Instead, she said, "I think there are still a few things in my closet."

Packing her new trunk was easier with two people. They worked together quietly until the last item, a glossy new robe, was folded neatly on top. She lowered the lid, closing it with a small click. Exhausted, she flopped onto her bed. She threw her arm over her eyes. The end of the bed creaked. Peeking out from under her arm, she saw Loki perched by her feet.

"You leave tomorrow?" he asked, glancing around her room.  
"Yes," she said simply, sitting up and drawing her knees to her chest. "Are you still coming with me?"  
She watched as he seemed to ponder the idea, then nod in confirmation. Hermione let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding.  
"Thank you," Hermione whispered. Loki's head snapped up.  
"Whatever for?"  
"For coming," she explained, resting her chin on her knees. He stared at her for a moment, reaching out to touch her cheek hesitantly.  
"**~Always**...for you."

A tear slid down Hermione's cheek. "I've never been closer to anyone. I'd miss you so much if you weren't coming."  
"I know," he smirked, "who wouldn't?"  
That made her laugh, and bold enough to ask something she had been wondering about since she had woken up that morning.  
"Will you hold me?" she inquired tentatively, earning an arched eyebrow. Quickly, she added, "Like at the hospital? If it's not too much..."  
"Silly girl," he said, wiping her tears with his thumb.

Soon enough, they were stretched out and she was cradled against him as she had been on her deathbed, palm flat against palm and fingers twined. It didn't take her long to get drowsy wrapped in the security and comfort she felt.  
"I'll always come for you, no matter what, never mind the cost to me or the distance," Loki murmured, drawing her head into the crook of his neck and kissing her hair. A small smile lifted her lips, but she had already gone, tired as she was, and was too sound asleep for more.

* * *

Thanks for all those who have shown their appreciation and thanks to all those who reviewed (krikanalo and StevieRae1226, and the two guests). I will answer those questions, I promise. If there are any other questions that I can answer without giving too much away, please feel free to either PM me or ask in a review. I understand the mobile was having a few glitches and I apologize. I also want to give credit to my Beta and BFF in our personal lives, InTheAsylum. She is the one who introduced me to this wonderful community. A word of Advice: for all those who haven't, please go check out Dresden Blue and her take on Heroki (as a friend of mine has affectionately dubbed this pairing). She has one and two shot companions for her novel length story about Hermione and Loki's relationship. She's friendly as far as I know, a fantastic writer and incredibly skilled. She has links to fan art and the youtube video that inspired her story, so check it out! Her tumblr is also available.

I would lastly like to reassure any _Nightshade_ readers and mention that the wonderful OC'specialty has accepted me as her beta. She has a series which needs attention. Thank you for your time.

Notices: **_Disclaimer Charm_ has remained active and we are now Knargle free!**

**Lithia Sunset is not responsible for any typos or erros that have occured and all blame is transferred to her beta, InTheAsylum, for being on a multifandom bing and wasting her life on tumblr, TV tropes, twitter, youtube and Sherlock. :)**


	8. Variables

**The Remnant Prince**

_**Ch. 7 Variables**_

She was having that dream again…The dream involving the hospital, with its sterile halls and bleached hangings...and her deathbed.

The dream was a haunting thing-and a memory. She didn't know what to do with it. She would skim over it once she woke idly, and not think of it again until the next time. Hermione found, though, that she generally had more to worry about than dreams.

She also knew that time all depended on how you looked at it-and surprisingly, it wasn't always linear.

* * *

_****Approximate Present, or The Past****_

Naryu watched Odin, serene and nonchalant. She was a pace behind Thor and Loki, who were following Father at heel. She observed the Casket of Ancient Winters from a distance. Thor appeared completely awed, Loki contemplative.  
"Do the Frost Giants still live?" Loki asked, having kept a thoughtful silence throughout while Thor bounced on the balls of his feet in gleeful anticipation.  
"When I'm king," he blurted, oblivious to the dark shadow that passed over his brother's face, "I'll hunt them all down and slay them all! Just as you did, Father."

Naryu opened her mouth to comment on his bloodlust, speaking at the same time as Odin. He gestured for her to go on instead to explain.  
"A wise king never seeks out war."  
"But he must always be ready for it," Odin added solemnly. He looked between them, smiling, strolling past them out of the Trophy Room and back the way they came. Thor and Loki glanced between themselves, one infinitely more apologetic when looking to her. She would never rule, unless there were no others.

The three siblings followed him. Naryu watched with a gleaming eye as her brothers ran to catch up to him, each taking a hand. He smiled gently.  
"I'm ready, Father," Thor enthused.  
"So am I," Loki hurriedly affirmed.

Odin's next words twisted in Naryu's gut like the icy blade of a dagger.  
"Only one of you can ascend to the throne, but both of you were born to be kings."  
There were ways of construing the truth that yet obscured it and cold, hard reality. Her brothers practically skipped off, reassured somewhat, but she remained. She twisted her hand, and Odin noticed the quiet in which they had descended. Her face dark and brooding as she upturned it to Odin, she said, "You shouldn't lead him on like that."  
"I did not lie," he said gruffly, his smile faltering and the twinkle leaving his eyes.  
"I should just tell him," Naryu spat.  
"You wouldn't dare," Odin warned.  
"I would dare because I don't want my brother and your _son_ to choke on the false hope you feed him. He walks a dark path and a thin line, and you use the truth more flippantly than any, and when he uses those fine points and small weapons, what does it get him?"  
"Hope," Odin murmured. "Not false. I did not lie."  
"But you misled a child. Do you know how disappointed he'll be when he finds out you never planned to choose him?"  
"His throne does not lie here," Odin growled. Naryu paused, panting.  
"No, it doesn't. But he doesn't know that, does he, _Father_?"  
She spun on her heel, slicing irritably through her own spell work.

She caught up to the boys just as they passed the gardens.  
"Why don't we play the quiet game?" she snapped harshly as she came upon their excited babble. They fell silent.  
"Sister, you are angry," Thor noted. "Why?"  
"Because it's all a bunch of malarkey."  
"What is?" Loki asked quietly, making her snap her mouth shut.  
"Nothing," she hissed. "Let's go somewhere."

They followed her into the gardens a pace behind, whispering to each other. She touched a plant or statue here or there as she passed by it. An odd mist thickened before them, rolling in from the far side. Their Dashta solidified in front of them.  
"I heard from Odin that you three got a brief history lesson today," she said. Her eyes met Naryu's as the boys glanced at each other. For a brief moment, her fear and despair flickered at her daughter, but she mastered herself just as her the boys focused on her.

"He did," Loki said hesitantly. Dashta drew herself up, gesturing at nearby benches.  
"Did he tell you the tale of the lost Queen of that Realm?"

The boys once more exchanged glances, shaking their heads no. Dashta exhaled slowly, closing her eyes as she sat regally.  
"Well, let's see..."  
"We only know of King Laufey and how Jotunheim fell," Thor gushed, plopping down eagerly.  
"I'll start at the beginning, then," Dashta began.  
"Jotunheim had a Queen, just as Asgard. Her name...was Fárbauti, although she was also known by Nál."  
"How did she meet Laufey?" Naryu asked. Dashta swallowed, licking her lips.  
"She met him in an entirely different Realm in disguise. He showed her his true form only when he had worked his magic to make it seem as though he meant no harm, with words of honey that charmed her. You see, he had infiltrated the sacred haven of the elves, and she in her foolishness let him escape from their prison."  
"Wait-wasn't she a Frost Giant?" Thor interrupted. Loki sat up straighter.  
"No...She was not," Fárbauti answered, pulling a dead bloom off of a nearby flower.  
"She was an elf?" Loki pursued. Dashta met his gaze. "Only half an elf, dear one. You see, she was a half-blood. She was half elfin and half Sylph."

"Like you!" Thor exclaimed, turning excitedly to Naryu like a puppy. He switched back to Dashta.  
"What happened next?"  
"They ran away together. He told her lies as he romanced her, fed her half-truths until he was certain her mind was fuzzy and she was thoroughly drugged with a potion that produced false affection. He forgot to dose her one time, and she had a moment of clarity, but it was already too late. She was pregnant and Queen of a nation she knew nothing about. She grew to hate Jotunheim and its bitterness. She hated Laufey with a passion for bewitching her and holding her prisoner and she hated herself for losing her life like a fool."

"And the child-surely she tried all she could to..." Loki trailed off. Her eyes softened, far away as she spoke.  
"No...as much as she hated Laufey, she loved their son. He had a part of him in him, she knew, but he also held a part of her that she had shared with him. She loved him unconditionally before he was even born. She loved him in the womb, and when he was born...Laufey came for him."

She paused.  
"He took him," Loki said, "but what became of him?"  
Dashta gripped the table rather tightly.  
"He did not take him. He was disappointed that his heir was more like Fárbauti than him. He sneered at his mere existence...and promised the mother that once he conquered the Nine Realms, he would come for him and drown him."

The boys gasped. Naryu kept her eyes downcast.  
"What did she do?"  
Again, the question was from Loki, spoken softly and quietly with a tentative air.  
"As soon as he left them, she took him in her arms, combining their essences, and went out of the window as mist. She trudged through the snow though her body was weak, arriving at the temple. She laid protective enchantments over him with her own magic, making him invisible, and then she sought out the All-father to warn him of Laufey's plans. He was skeptical at first, but the Queen proved how desperate she was to protect the one thing she loved most-her son, one she had not named for fear they could be found. She went back for him when Odin led the last assault on Jotunheim. She fought in the fray, using her magic to win without bloodshed. She settled peace as was her right."

She stopped.  
"What happened to the little prince?"  
"Or the Queen?"  
"She was never seen again, nor was the infant. No one knows what happened do them. Most assume she went to raise him with the Sylph that shared her name since the elves were still angered by her past foolishness and oversights, others that she struck out on her own."

Thor and Loki were speechless at last.  
"What a sacrifice," Naryu said, making them look up. "She had to have been very brave...but very scared all the same."  
"It is told she was," Dashta supplied.

* * *

"Concentrate and visualize what you want, then breathe life into it."  
Hermione stared at the wick of the candle frustratedly. "I simply can't-"  
"Yes, you can. Every living thing has heat you can pull energy from and push onto or into what you want to burn. Solid materials have particles held tightly together in geometric patterns. Steal that pent up energy they have as well, the energy that makes them vibrate, and use some of that, as well, if you must. Once you have pulled this energy or heat, you use your magic to direct and wield it. Pull it inside with you magic and it won't burn you."

He held his hand out. Flames licked along his palm without burning him, then flickered out. Hermione tried to do as she was told. Slowly, she felt her chest tighten and warm, and the warmth spread through her. It was as if a new life sang through her blood and bones.  
"Now you will always have this fire. Loyaler than _Fiendfyre_, it will light in the dark, warm in the cold, burn in your fury and kill if it must."

Hermione and Loki were sitting on the school grounds by the lake. It was late autumn, and the cool breeze that stirred made her shiver and reach for the fire she had just found to warm herself. It was pleasantly coiled inside of her like a trusting kitten, waiting. They were alone that Sunday morning, but a strong glamour was in place just in case. It was Loki's turn to teach her, and he had chosen to impart upon her the knowledge of fire. Fire was alive, in a sense, he had explained. **~It was strange and beautiful how destruction and life were bound together in fire**, she had told him. It fascinated Hermione. Once he had mentioned it, she had not eaten or put focus elsewhere until she could attempt to grasp it.

Her attempts at teaching him spells she used had proven successful. He could do them wandlessly and with great effect. She had taught him a few-the unlocking charm in repayment for the lock secure magic he had taught her to keep Rosalie out, hover and movement charms, and so forth. More often than not, they would sit and learn together, switching back and forth between their magics- and how she loved it all, absorbing it like a sponge. He had his own lessons during the day while she had hers, and as soon as they were free for lunch or he could get away, he was there. No one thought she was crazy if she talked to herself at Hogwarts-many people spoke to ghosts or spirits or had such friends in the wizarding world, where your social group did not always include the living.

"Did you find somewhere inside we can have our lessons?" Hermione asked, staring out across the lake. Loki pulled at the grass by his booted feet.  
"There's a ghost, The Gray Lady or some such, which lurks around Ravenclaw Tower. I got her to tell me about a room...some Room of Requirement that changes to fit your needs. That will be perfect for our use."  
"I've heard of her. She's Ravenclaw House's ghost."  
Her cheeks burned faintly at the fact that she had more associates in another house than her own. Picking up a pebble, she skipped it a decent length before it sank below the surface.

"Will you be here for the Halloween feast? I hear it's quite lovely."  
"No," he replied firmly. She glanced at him. He leaned forward. "I...have a prior engagement."  
She itched to pester him about it but thought better of it. "All right, but please, if you're planning something, be careful."

"Do I detect a hint of concern, _My_?" he asked. "Why, I'm deeply touched, I must say. Don't worry; I'll be perfectly all right."

"Sure you will," she said sarcastically.

"You would know if something were amiss, I assure you. You would feel it."

She didn't reply, merely stared at the small purple candle perched atop her book bag. A tiny flame caught on the wick, sputtered to life and burned intensely.

* * *

Loki approached Naryu slowly. "I'm aging, you know," she said, not looking up from her book.

"Well, of course you are. We both are. We're children, remember?"

"I mean I'm going to turn into a pillar of dust if you don't hurry up."

"Testy, testy," he murmured, sitting in the chair across from her window seat to wait. With a sigh, she closed her book and settled back, staring at him expectantly. He knew that for this he would have to play on her kleptomania and use it to his advantage. He felt a small twinge of regret but brushed it off.

"Want to help me acquire something?"

She tilted her head sideways. "Acquire as in...?"

"Yes." She straightened.

"What is it and when can we do it?"

"The elves have it, and it's something I've been reading up on...a time compass."

Naryu paused with the clasp of her cloak. "I have been reading up on it as well. I already planned to take this, Loki. If I help you, we share it, deal?"

He paused, surprised, but extended his hand to her. "Deal," he agreed.

Darkness had fallen upon Alfheim when they arrived. The two thieves snuck their way towards the citadel, hiding when anyone came near them. "It should still be here, in the Hall of Time," Naryu muttered from the corner of her mouth as they approached the castle. Admittedly, no guards were watching for children. Naryu dissipated into mist, bundling around Loki and boosting him toward one of the windows. She pushed him through, trusting him on his landing as she returned to her normal form and perched on the windowsill. She dropped. For some reason, Loki had not moved, and she landed squarely on him, eliciting a hiss from underneath her. She quickly scrambled off of him and crouched at his side.

**"~Oh, sorry,"** she apologized.

**"~Okay, be quiet**," Loki said irritably.

**"~Me be quiet? You be quiet!"** she sibilated. He opened his mouth to retort, but she smacked her hand over his parted lips. Someone was coming nearer them stealthily. Naryu pulled the shadows tighter around them and Loki strengthened their glamour. together, they waited pensively. A figure materialized, wearing a cloak as dark as theirs. Similarly gloved hands reached for the windowsill of the window just down the corridor from where they sat, overlooking a courtyard from the opposite wall. The hood was up, the face thrown into shadow. It paused, glancing from left to right, almost turning to face them, stopped only by the clattering of feet and the sound of alarms. "Thievery!" came the call. The unknown lifted itself upward, heaving, to drop down out of that window.

With the mission compromised and detection eminent, Naryu and Loki clasped hands, Naryu flowing around him once more and bearing them away a safe distance into the night. Once they were safely away, she dropped them in a clearing in the strange woods.

"Did you hear them?" she asked furiously, "Did you hear them!"

"They were shouting about a theft in the Hall of Time," Loki said slowly. "You don't think-"

"Yes, brother, someone beat us to it!"

He meant to reply, but his chest suddenly tightened, a scream piercing his mind sharply. "Hermione!" he exclaimed.

"What?" Naryu asked in surprise, halting in her pacing. "I hardly think-"

"She's in danger," Loki related, "We must...we have to..."

"I understand," Naryu said firmly, almost punching a window into existence with the force of her creating. Loki plunged through as another scream rent the air. He was in a deserted corridor. Naryu had used his memory of the castle to transport him as close as she could and trusted him with the other details. He heard the connection shatter behind him. He didn't need his link as he rounded corners to find her. Her screams led him to the girl's bathroom. Dashing inside, he immediately saw the cause of her dismay. A twelve- foot mountain troll stood studpidly, demolishing the bathroom as it tried to get to her. There were two other mortal children there, both boys, one a ginger and the other black-haired. Its breed, he knew, was the largest and most vicious kind of their species. It had large legs as thick as tree trunks, with scabby bumps dotting its pale gray skin. Its head was small and disproportionate, with large ears, a fat gut and blank eyes. It swung an enormous club about.

"Hermione, move!" the black-haired boy yelled. The boys threw debris at it, one hitting him in the head as he called it peabrain. It turned on them momentarily, but as Hermione moved, it diverted attention back to her. She screeched as the sink she had just been under was shattered into pieces. At her wail for help, the boy with glasses lunged at the troll, wand out, but was only able to cling to the mighty skull-bashing club as it caught him swinging through the air. Landing on its shoulders, he jammed his wand up its nostrils. The troll reacted badly to that, and ended up dangling him by the ankle and forcing him to dodge as it swung repeatedly at him.

"Do something!" he yelled.

"What?" the red-head asked bemusedly.

"Anything!" his companion replied. He tried to disentangle his wand. Loki had had enough watching. As Hermione tried to instruct the dull boy on how to disarm the beast, Loki used the levitation charm.

_"Wingardium Leviosa_!" he and the boy said at once, although they could not hear Loki. Loki felt his magic rush forth to fill the space. It, along with the boy's, held the troll's club in place. He dissolved the spell, watching as the club cracked painfully against the bald skull, knocking its owner unconscious. The second boy scrambled away as the troll fell once he was free from its grasp. As Hermione stood, glancing wildly around, he let her catch sight of him, sending her the kind of smirk one might see if they were passing by each other on the street.

"Is it...dead?" she asked, glancing upward as she advanced hesitantly. Loki shook his head no. The boy with glasses answered, assuming the question to be for him or his companion.

"No, I don't think so...just knocked out." He went to retrieve his wand, giving Loki enough room to squeeze past to Hermione. Behind him, three hurried sets of footsteps entered. Loki waited until later when Hermione was returning to Gryffindor Tower alone to speak with her. She seemed to know he was with her. Stepping into a hidden alcove, she beckoned awkwardly, not being able to see him. He slipped inside, facing her in the cramped space meant for one.

Materializing in front of her, he inquired, "You didn't actually go looking for it, did you? Because that would be very, very stupid, and I know you're not that incompetent or idiotic."

Grabbing his hand, she said firmly, "No, I didn't. I was in the bathroom and it just came in...if they hadn't found me-"

"I would have. I can always find you. Have you...been crying?" he asked. She turned her face from him ashamedly.

"Malfoy," she whispered softly. "Ron and Harry think that Ron made me cry, but it was Malfoy and his gang..."

"Don't worry," he reassured her, pulling her against him tightly, "We'll get them back for this, I promise."

And so they did.

* * *

_****The Future, Approximately, or The Present****_

Fárbauti sighed as she held the time compass between her hands. She sat in a chair by the window in her room, looking out across Asgard. At the sound of someone's approach, she snapped the lid shut over the face, slipping it into the pocket of her robes. She looked up as Naryu entered the room.

"Should you not be in the Throne Room with the King, Duchess Naryu?"

"It's time, Dashta. The truth is long overdue. It's time you told it and went by your proper name."

Fárbauti sighed, straightening. "You are right, of course. After Jotunheim, I know he had questions. I know not what Odin may have told him...but I know it was not the whole truth. I spoke with him just before he succumbed to the Odinsleep. He warned me I would have explaining to do...and that he lied to protect me because he thought I should be the one to tell Loki, because he finally realized it was my secret to tell and he should have let me long ago."

"Now comes the difficult part-telling Loki."

"Telling me what?" Loki asked smoothly as he came through the doorway. Fárbauti sucked in her breath and squeezed her eyes shut as Naryu turned to face Loki.

He stood regally, in full helm with Gungnir

gripped tightly in hand. "It is not my secret to tell, though I have the knowledge and was directly involved," Naryu responded, looking down and away. "Yet you have a right to know."

"Know what?" he asked. His sister remained silent. "TELL ME!" he yelled. "What must I know? What other truths were held from me?"

He grabbed her, shaking her like a rag doll. She let him, tears spilling as she kept her peace.

**"~I don't know who I am- or who I was**, before I was stolen," he snarled. Finally, she met his frantic gaze.

**"~I know this is hard, but you are forgetting about the ****three**** people who did want you. They chose you, they loved you, they raised you-"**

"With lies," he spat, his nails digging into her upper arms through her sleeves. **"~You don't keep secrets from people you love. How could they let me find out like that?"**

**"~Ask,"** she told him calmly.

"I have asked, but you have denied me the answers."

"Because you have asked the wrong person. I tell you, it is not my right to say, but it is your right to know."

"What was it you were sure I needed to know?" he asked, almost pitifully, the anguish clear on his face. Fárbauti stood soundlessly behind Naryu.

"To begin with things," she said, surprising them both, "do you remember the story of the lost Queen?"

Loki looked up, puzzled, but replied, "Yes. It was obviously a lie Father told you when you came to the palace. I apologize, Dashta."

Fárbauti winced. "Do you remember her name?"

"Fárbauti," he supplied with ease.

"The story was not a lie," she said, her voice strengthening as she continued. He released Naryu at her next words and stepped towards her. "I knew your mother. We both did, I intimately so."

"Tell me, then, Dashta," he whispered, and she squeezed her eyes tight again for the strength she knew she needed to break her son's heart. "Who was she?"

"Are you sure you want to know the answer, truly?" she pressed.

"Yes!" he exclaimed, "Please tell me and end this...if you love me."

Fárbauti reached for his hand. "You are not a monster, and you were loved, Loki, always loved. She never forgot you; she hid you in plain sight. You must understand, both of you would have been killed."

His eyes hardened. "She abandoned me."

"She did not. She has always kept her watchful eye on you, making sure you were never in any real danger, and she was and is so proud of you."

"How can you know all of this? It must mean that she lives and you have kept contact with her."

"No, Loki," Fárbauti whispered, pained as his face twisted with confusion.

"But-" he started to protest.

"Loki," she interrupted, "I am your mother. I am Fárbauti...Queen of Jotunheim...I am your mother."


	9. The Deepest Desires & The Deadliest Hate

**The Remnant Prince**

**Ch.8: The Deepest Desires and the Deadliest Hate**

A/N: Thanks to all of the readers, reviewers, followers and those who added this to their favorites. A nice, slow, chapter that is relatively calm and designed to torture y'all. Hope the next one doesn't take quite as long to upadate, and I promise more will happen next time. At least it isn't short or complete crap. My life is very busy right now, but I promise to try harder! And also, to _Nightshade_ readers, I plan to update soon. As in before December and on some free weekend. Ciao, Lithy.

* * *

_****Approximate Present, or The Past****_

"How is she?" Naryu asked, rushing up to him as soon as he entered his room. Loki scowled.

"Have you been waiting here the entire time?" he said irritably. Naryu merely shrugged.

"Perhaps. Is that a crime?"

"If I'm king, it may be."

He flopped onto his bed. Naryu perched on the edge of his window seat.

"So are you going to tell me anything at all?" she asked after a few moments of silence.

"Yes...her little human friends are worthless and the one called _Ron_ is a putz."

"That's rather harsh," Naryu reprimanded gently. "They're not us. And they're only eleven."

"Hermione and I are eleven," Loki retorted, idly fingering a thread and staring at the ceiling.

"Yes, but you're...you're both different."

"Ugh," he scoffed. "Excuses, excuses. How droll those creatures are. She is an exception."

"Then why do you expect them to be just as good," Naryu pressed quietly, "if you two are so clearly unmatched and above them?"

Loki scowled. "I thought she would keep better company."

"Bit of a double standard, isn't it?" Naryu questioned, sighting along a katana. Loki sat up, glaring slightly. "What would you know of it?"

"Oh, not much. Just a bit hypocritical, if you ask me."

"Well I didn't ask you," he hissed. Naryu shrugged nonchalantly. "Whatever.** ~But remember, from the deepest desires often come the deadliest hate**."

She got up and padded to the door. Her hand extended above the knob, she said over her shoulder, "You shouldn't be so critical...or so jealous. She's going to have other people in her life. Just try to remember that they're not replacing you, yeah?"

In a swish of fabric, she was gone. He hopped up angrily, striding to the door to confront her. He flung it open and peered out. She was nowhere to be seen.

Growling in frustration, he slammed the door, retreating to his bed once more. Hermione's friends were the most unsavory idiots he could bring to mind besides his brother. He opened one of the books he had retrieved on his way to his own quarters. Hermione's greatest fault, he reasoned, was that she always went tripping after her two imbeciles like a mother hen, drawing them under her wing with reprimands and saving their arses with logic-of which they appeared to be inherently incapable of grasping. His greatest fault, then, would be following _her_, because _by Frigga_ she was continuously caught up in situations once she saved her mortal pets' sorry necks. What he wouldn't give to have her only as his own again, as before.

He scowled. Damnable sharing; it was going to get her killed.

* * *

Hermione-once again-sat in the Common Room late into the evening. Yule vacation was upcoming, and Hermione was sorely tried. For all of her reprisals, Harry and Ron were convinced that Professor Snape was responsible for everything going wrong around the castle-even plumbing issues, as she scathingly fumed at them earlier. Sighing, she sat her books aside and drew her knees up to her chin, staring into the dancing flames.

She didn't notice it at first, but then she caught them-the shapes in the hearth. Little figures whirling about and doing tricks.

"Such games you play," she murmured, "Is this how you woo all of the pretty girls back on Asgard?"

"Don't be so sullen. You're only number ninety-nine."

Hermione snorted at that, laying her head to the side, facing away from the fire.

A smile materialized into existence, and gleaming emerald eyeballs.

"Chessie," Hermione mumbled drowsily.

"Tilly," Loki's voice replied lucidly from the arm of the brown sofa.

"Why are up so late again?" he asked, voice full of reproach as he noticed something about a nearby parchment displayed on the table. Snatching it up, he hissed, "_Ronald Weasley? Ronald fucking Weasley!_"

"Loki!" Hermione was appalled. She snatched the document back, out of his curled fingers. Smoothing out the wrinkles his grip had caused, she hurriedly stuffed all of the remaining papers away.

"Your own work isn't enough so now you have to carry their worthless weight too?" he spat.

"You said fuck," Hermione muttered as she gathered all of her books. He grabbed her hands, holding them still within his own.

"Answer me!" he snarled. She looked him in the eye.

"I'm merely correcting their mistakes. They've plenty and I was already finished..."

Loki snorted in disdain, releasing her.

"Did you find out anything about Nicholas Flamel?" Hermione asked hopefully, changing subject. Loki saw right through her abruptness, but shrugged it off. "I might have acquired a few things..."

"That's brilliant!" Hermione exclaimed, reaching out and bringing him close for a hug. There was momentary silence, then, lightly, "If you wanted me to hold you, all you had to do was ask."

Hermione pushed away from him gently, scoffing amusedly.

"Well, I wouldn't know about that, but I know how you are about sharing, so maybe we can work out those kinks over break. I've finished all of my projects, so-"

She was cut off by a finger placed lightly over her lips.

"All work and no play make Johnny a very dull boy."

Hermione rolled her eyes at that. "You are coming, aren't you?"

"But of course."

Loki disappeared soundlessly, leaving Hermione to doze by the fire until near dawn, when she blinked blearily into wakefulness only to shuffle to bed for an hour and a half.

The day came for her to board the train home. The snow was thick underfoot, crunching whenever she took a step. Her breath puffing in a cloud around her head, Hermione shifted impatiently from foot to foot while she waited on the platform.

"Eager, are we?" a low voice whispered, an inflection of humor evident. Hermione whirled, curls whipping about wildly.

"Loki!" she exclaimed, more than a little surprised. He was dressed similarly to her, in what appeared to be a cloak, his hair slicked back handsomely and his feet booted in a style more like the students'. Hermione reached out, gingerly picking up a corner with her fingertips.

"What are you wearing underneath?" she asked at last. He swept the cloak open to reveal a pair of black corduroys and a rich emerald green sweater. Nodding her approval, Hermione said, "I suppose this means you're visible?"

"In the flesh," he agreed. The students passing by barely glanced his way. Hermione looped her arm artfully through his and steered him inconspicuously toward the nearest step-up. They boarded together, Hermione quickly picking out an empty compartment and sitting down. The door slid closed with a small _snk_.

"How long will you stay visible?" Hermione inquired, shrinking her trunk wandlessly; she was quite good after years of practice with Loki. "Or rather, when will you disappear?"

She turned to face him just in time to see it...There was a flash of something that came over him, preceding an impish self-satisfied smirk.

"I'm afraid I won't be performing that trick this time around, Tilly."

Hermione's eyes widened considerably, and she leaned forward in amazement once she had sunk into the opposite seat.

"You mean to tell me-"

"I'm coming home with you."

"But Loki-my parents-you can't-!" she spluttered.

He remained confident. A letter that appeared out of nowhere in his right hand was waved under her nose. Hermione snagged it, bringing it so close her nose nearly ran over the parchment as she inspected it.

"You see, I've already written your parents, and they seem to think it's just fine."

Hermione glanced up. Her bottom lip slipped between her teeth, falling victim to nervous worrying. Then, quite suddenly, she scrunched the letter and slapped the boy in front of her. Loki blinked in astonishment, shellshocked. The bemusement didn't last long; he regained his composure in an instant, and, instead of scowling or reacting with volatility, he sat back coolly.

"I thought the news would please you. I see I was grievously mistaken."

Hermione deflated instantly, softening and regretting what she had done. She reached for his hand. He neither drew away nor responded to the touch, deigning to remain limp and indifferent.

"I apologize..." Hermione mumbled, blushing. "I just wish you would have asked me. I'm happy, of course, but...it's...complicated. I'm sorry."

Before he could respond, or she could add anything further, the compartment door slid open to reveal Rosalie.

"Sorry," Rosalie apologized, glancing between them, "I didn't know you were with someone."

Hermione cleared her throat awkwardly. "Um, yes. This is my friend-"

"-Damien, Damien York from Ravenclaw."

Rosalie visibly relaxed, obviously relieved Loki wasn't a Slytherin. She extended her hand.

"A pleasure to meet you."

Loki merely stared at it, long enough that Rosalie dropped it awkwardly, brightening past folly, vermilion and crimson altogether.

"Well, all right then. I'll just leave you two to it..."

She backed out and slid the door closed again. Hermione listened to her fading footsteps.

"What the bloody hell was that?" Hermione snapped, turning back to Loki angrily. He shrugged, settling back into the seat. After a while of them both staring fixedly out of the window, Hermione stuck her hand out practically underneath his nose.

"Truce?"

He merely stared at it, looking back at her wearing an injured expression.

"You did that because I hurt your feelings, didn't you?"

His eyebrow merely rose in response. Hermione sighed. "I told you I was sorry."

"And I've taught you how to lie."

Hermione inhaled sharply. "I swear it to you on my life magic."

Loki's eyes sparked. "Keep your life magic."

The rest of the train ride was peaceable enough. Hermione and Loki disembarked together. There was a silence as they waited for Rosalie to appear. Loki watched the crowd swirling excitedly around them as if each and every one of them verily bored him. Hermione sighed, shifting from one foot to the other. She touched her fingers to the back of his hand. "I guess it's my turn to share you now, isn't it?"

He started at that, regarding her from underneath his long lashes. "I suppose we'll see."

"I don't know where you'll sleep."

**~"...I rather thought I could kip on the end of your bed."**

Hermione opened and closed her mouth, feeling like a fish out of water. Loki smirked in satisfaction. He brightened considerably after that, even going so far as to apologize and properly greet Rosalie, like a true gentleman. To her credit, Rosalie accepted the change with grace and seemed to forgive the earlier slight. Loki didn't make the task difficult: he could charm just about anyone. It wasn't any different with her parents. They were enchanted with him. She wasn't sure what he had packed away in the messenger bag slung over his shoulder, just that she had given him the bag as a gift.

The car ride home was silent, with Rosalie humming thoughtfully, sketch journal open and pen flying. She was a peculiarity, being the only left-handed member of the family. At dinner, Loki entertained Jean and Benjamin. Hermione noticed that Rosalie said little to nothing, ate quickly and left even quicker. She frowned. She would have to talk to Rose later.

"I'm going to my room now," Hermione called to her parents.

"All right. If Damien needs extra blankets, there're some in the hall closet."

"All right, thanks mom."

When she got to her room, Loki was inspecting her computer, a look of rapture on his countenance. He looked up when she entered.

"I call the shower first," Hermione said over her shoulder as she riffled through her drawer for her flannel nightgown with strawberry patterns. She'd accidentally left it behind at the start of term. When there was no reply, she glanced upward to an empty room.

"Prat," she mumbled fondly, the water coming on down the hall at that exact moment. She wondered how exactly he had gotten away with staying in her Midgard with her over the Yule tide. There was a book at the bottom of her trunk on somewhat dark magic that he had procured for her. She was hesitant to read what lay within the crisp white pages, let alone practice any of it, but on an impulse, she scooped it up and stretched across her bed, opening it to the first page.

"I'm glad you seem to be enjoying my gift."

Hermione had to pry her eyes away from the fifth page of chapter two. Loki was perched on the bed post, wearing a silky green pajama set, eyes glimmering like a cat.

"It's interesting. Where did you get it?"

A grin curled his lips upward. "I acquired it when I was bored. I thought it might be useful."

"Acqui-Loki, _did you steal this book?"_

He shrugged, waving the door closed.

"Anything for you."

Hermione's lips screwed up into something between a frown of disapproval and a smile full of fondness.

"How flattering. Don't mess with anything."

Loki took on an expression of mock indignation. "What do you take me for?"

"You," Hermione retorted as she closed the door behind her.

* * *

Loki rolled his eyes as the door closed behind her. He picked up the book and perused until he sensed someone just outside of the room. He tensed, but held his position. A knock sounded. Eyebrow raised, he drawled, "Yes?"

The door opened. Someone cleared their throat.

"Well?" he said impatiently after a minute had passed and Rosalie had said nothing. He didn't find Hermione's sister particularly irritating. She was a lot like her sister in many ways, more the idea of twins that most people imagined and dreamt up. Her personality was widely varying as well, not quite Hermione's compliment but not her opposite.

Sighing, Loki closed the book carefully and met her gaze.

"You're not Damien York."

It was so brusque, so abrupt, that he was caught completely off guard. Regaining his composure within a second, he decided not to lie.

"No, I'm not."

He sat up straighter. Rosalie stood taller. He noticed how very green her eyes were.

"You're not a Ravenclaw either...or a student, for that matter."

"No," he said slowly, "I'm not."

He tipped his head to the side. "How did you know?"

"Eidetic memory," Rosalie replied, taking a step forward. "You weren't at our Sorting and I've never seen you, ever-except by the stream the day we got our letters. Who are you?...What are you?"

He grinned. "Well..." This was certainly going to be _interesting_.

* * *

**~"Are you decent?"**

**~"Never."**

"You know what I mean," Hermione retorted as she waited for Loki to _hurry the hell up and change_. It was her room, but he was taking his sweet time getting dressed.

"If you're not ready by the count of three," she muttered, tapping her foot. "Three," she said, almost as an afterthought, bursting into her room. He was messing with his hair in front of her mirror.

**"~You know, I could have been naked in here," he remarked.**

"You're incorrigible."

"Thank you, I try."

"Are we going to the café and the bookshop or not?"

"Mind if I come?"

They both turned. Rosalie was in the doorway. Hermione looked to Loki to see what he thought about it. "We could bring Naryu and make it a party."

"Loki!" Hermione exclaimed in horror.

"It's okay, sis," Rosalie said soothingly, "I know. He told me last night."

She cocked her head at Loki. "Why Damien York?"

He grinned. "Oh, you know."

Rosalie shrugged. "I mean, I get the double allusion, I just want to know _why them_?"

It was his turn to shrug.

The three descended the stairs together and said their farewells to Jean and Benjamin, promising to be home for lunch. Hermione's curiosity was piqued as to why her friend didn't need as much coverage. She pushed the idle thought aside. It was probably because he was of Asgard. She shivered. As they walked down the street, Loki extricated a coin from his pocket. Hermione noticed him toying with it in her peripheral vision. Something glimmered around the edges and then disappeared.

"What did you just do?" Rosalie asked thoughtfully.

"Summon my sister," he replied simply, stowing the coin away.

When they arrived at the bookshop, Naryu was waiting for them in the alcove by the door, looking quite odd in muggle attire. So odd, in fact, that Hermione found the image of her without her more wizardly Asgardian wardrobe completely ludicrous. She stood to greet them. She embraced her brother and Hermione. Blinking at Rosalie, she said, "I don't quite think we've met. I'm the sister."

She proffered her hand to the other girl. Rosalie accepted it, smiling faintly. "No, I don't think so either. I'm the other sister-but you know that, don't you?"

"Indeed."

The four entered together and went their separate ways. The quaint place, she had discovered, was owned by a squib and a muggle-born who had come from a prestigious pureblood family bearing the name of the establishment. They were all that was left. Hermione loved the well-hidden wing solely devoted to all kinds of users of magic. That was where she headed. Loki had given her all she need know concerning Nicolas Flamel. Now these seemed interesting...

"Bit dark for you, isn't it?" Loki commented from behind her, making her jump. He reached past her and pulled a book from the shelf. "And advanced at that."

"Perhaps we can practice later. We never know what we may encounter...

"...or how useful it may be," he finished, pocketing the book. She uttered no protest. She knew by now that it did no good to insist on paying for what he wanted. He was a prince too used to simply taking what he wanted.

"Do you know how to dance?" he asked suddenly.

"I-what? What kind of dancing?"

"Oh, any at all," he replied calmly, studying his nails.

"Naryu has convinced Rosalie to watch some wretched musical today. I told them we wouldn't be accompanying them. I was correct in my assumption?"

"Yes," Hermione hurriedly assured him. She hated musicals.

Suddenly feeling suffocated, she grabbed him and quickly exited the store, leaving galleons where they would be found by the owners.

"You forgot these," he said once they were a few blocks away. Hermione looked at his hand, immediately yelping in surprise. Her entire stack of galleons she had deposited sat in the middle of his palm.

She started to say something angrily, but he silenced her by raising his hand.

"I am merely jesting. I duplicated the coins you left. Don't worry your silly little head."

That earned him a half-hearted elbow jab and a dirty look, to which he answered with another infuriating smirk.

Hermione was somewhere between laughing uncontrollably and crying in frustration. Searching for a distraction, she landed on the park. The entrance was a few feet away.

"Walk with me," she instructed, turning down the path. To her relief, she could hear the crunching of feet on the snow behind her. It wasn't hard to find something to do on a whim to keep him from getting bored.

Her wicked streak took hold of her, and before she knew it, the bough overhead, pregnant with fresh snow, shook and dumped its contents earthward at the last moment. She skipped out of the way, dodging behind the trunk of a second tree nearby.

"You'll have to do better than that," he taunted from somewhere to her right. Something cold hit her head and exploded into smithereens on contact. She gasped. Loki had thrown a snowball at her.

She dove down just as another whizzed by her ear. Cloaking herself, she pulled herself up and ran, dodging the flurry of ammunition until she could duck into the hedge maze in the center.

"Do you surrender?" he called amusedly.

"Truce," Hermione gasped, breathless. Arms wrapped around her from behind in a restrictive embrace.

"Never poke a sleeping dragon in the eye-isn't that what your people say?"

"I hardly think you qualify as a dragon," she retorted. She was spun around, finding herself pressed close to a very impish and extremely playful prankster.

She was surprised to see that Loki was breathing hard as well-that their chests were, in fact, heaving in sync.

"Shall we dance?" he asked. Without waiting for a reply, he took her hands and began leading her in a clearly Asgardian dance. She didn't have to know the moves. She barely had to do any of the work as he twisted and turned them, completing wild moves and spinning her. Their magic responded like an orchestra to a conductor, flowing subliminally into crescendo after crescendo and never seeming to end even where things normally would have. Magic was breathtaking. Dancing was liberating. Smash them together with your magical counterpart, and you got...well, you got what they had-or so she reckoned.

It was exhilarating, seeing both what she saw and felt and what he saw and felt, and by the look of glee on his face, vice versa. She could have danced forever-if she hadn't slipper on one of her outward spin positions and hit Loki in his knees by accident before he could react and move out of the line of fire. The result culminated into them:

A.) Falling against the outer hedge wall

B.) The wall giving way because it was so brittle and bare during winter,

And C.) Them rolling down the hill on the other side.

Hermione couldn't help it: she screamed. Their magic stopped them from barreling all of the way down and crashing into the ditch filled with rocks, but it didn't stop them from becoming awkwardly and haphazardly tangled up.

"Well...that went well," Hermione supplied in an attempt of feeble sarcasm.

**~"That wasn't even a situation,"** Loki replied. Hermione glared at him.

"I wouldn't let anything happen to you," he calmly explained. "So...hot chocolate, Tilly?"

* * *

The café was warm when they stepped inside together. Delicious aromas permeated the air, and soft chatter filled the place. Hermione left Loki at the table, ordering a steaming plate of assorted cookies and two mugs of hot chocolate. She set them down carefully. Loki was staring out of the window, and didn't face her until she was seated in the booth across from him. He eyed the mugs critically.

"Why's yours look different?" he asked suspiciously.

"I like cinnamon in mine," Hermione told him. "Want to taste it?"

At his reluctance, she sighed frustratedly. "It's not poison, Loki."

Slowly, cautiously, he took a sip from her mug.

"Not bad," he commented, considering it.

"Would you like for me to go get you some?" she asked politely. He shrugged, pushing her mug back across the table to her. She got up for some, though, when she saw him lick the remainder off of his lips.

Once they finished, they sat for a while in contemplative companionable silence.

"Asgard..." Hermione began, leaning forward on her elbows.

"Yes?" Loki inquired.

"I want to see it."

Loki squirmed uncomfortably. "I'm not sure if I can take...both of us...that far," he drew out slowly, coloring. That was unusual, that uncertainty. As was the admittance of a shortcoming. Hermione stretched her hand out, squeezing his left hand, which limply cupped the empty mug.

"What we can't do apart, she said, "we can always, _always_, do together."

A softer, happier grin curved across his features, more genuine.

"Precisely. I had just come to that, actually," Loki asserted loftily, sniffing, lifting his chin haughtily and looking down his nose at her.

**~"Oh, I see, I see. Whenever I think of something, it's just a coincidence. Whenever you think of something it's a work of genius,**" she bantered back.

**"~Exactly**," he replied with an air of mock superiority.

"So when can I come?"

He frowned. "Not yet."

Hermione sagged back into the plush upholstery of the booth. "I'm starting to think you're not even here for me."

He spread his hands wide, leaning back and grinning. "But of course; don't you know I'm always here for myself?"

Hermione smiled faintly, sticking her tongue out. Inwardly, Loki sighed in relief. He wasn't sure of his reasoning. Maybe he was afraid of the consequences, more those concerning her, of course. Maybe he was afraid of disappointing her.

Maybe he was still selfishly afraid of showing her to them because they might want a little piece or part of her, too. Of his Hermione. Of her love, affection, friendship, or attention.

Loki Odinson just couldn't stand the thought of that.

* * *

_****The Future, Approximately, or The Present****_

A few things happened at once. One of them was the maelstrom of confusion etched clearly up and down Loki as he stared, taught like a bowstring.

"Mother?" he whispered.

"Yes," Fárbauti whispered in return.

* * *

A/N: Dundundun, muahahaha, I'm so evil cutting that short, especially after last chapter. Sorry for any errors. My beta was unavailable, and I was pressed for time. So has anyone figured out any of the quotes? Thanks again guys and gals and whoever else.


	10. Risk

**The Remnant Prince**

**A/N: Sorry for the wait! And sorry that there is only a Hermion reference. She'll be in the next one, I promise. The nickname Tilly, which I have been asked about, is in reference to Matilda and theri experience with that, and his light, fond, teasing. She calls him Chessie sometimes because of the Cheshire Cat. Rose will also be in the next chapter, as will more of the past/present. This is mostly a future/present chapter. This basically covers...well, you'll see. Details and reasons behind things, as well as some other...things... for lack of better words, come up. Hope this is plausible, and if not, or if there are any other quesions/comments/concerns/ objects of confusion, please feel free to PM me or review. Or both. Stressed and tired now and will fix any and all typos/mistakes later. Forgive me. I'm alseep on my feet and my beta is in bed. Otherwise, this should be fine. :3**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

**Ch. 9: Risk**

**_**The Future, Approximately, or The Present**_**

Odin stared out over the balcony at his kingdom, embracing the cool dawn in the peculiar light as if every spire, every hill, every wayward, stray creature, were a part of him. Huginn and Muninn glided toward him on glossy wings, landing in a dignified manner and ruffling their dark feathers. Huginn cawed at him, tilting his head to the side. Muninn dipped his graceful neck. Both bent their slender legs in a slight bow. Odin acknowledged them briefly.

Frigga watched them by way of their reflections in her mirror as she attempted to choose which pair of earrings to wear to her son's coronation. She saw Odin's lips part, watching as he asked, "Do you think he's ready?"

Of course, she knew who he meant. It was strange, talking about someone without really talking about them, or never mentioning them by name. She paused, her hand hovering by her earlobe.

"He thinks he is. He has his father's confidence," she replied. Odin sighed.

"He'll need his father's wisdom."

"And his humility?" she queried softly.

Odin started. Frigga continued as if she had not noticed. The jade ones looked nice as well...

"Thor won't be alone. Loki and Naryu will be at his side to give him counsel. Have faith in your children."

She frowned. Now that she thought about it, the jade didn't match at all. In fact, it looked terrible to her as she turned it in the light. She dropped it back among her other jewels, rummaging for another pair.

"Yes, but Thor's still a boy. He could be a great King..." he trailed off, noticing a tremor in his hand. Frigga opened her mouth to say something, had half-turned to him, when a flurry of wings flapping temporarily stole her attention.

A White-throated Needle-tail Swift appeared, soaring over the heads of Huginn and Muninn, who squawked in protest, to land on the floor between Frigga and Odin. Its form shivered, and in the next instant, Fárbauti stood before them clad in an ensemble similar to that of Frigga. She and Frigga watched as his hand left a trail through the air when he moved it. He grunted, staring hard at it and trying to master himself. Finally, he got it to stop. The two women moved towards to him until they were all close together.

"...if only we had more time."

Wordlessly, Fárbauti clasped his hand. A surge of magic pulsed from Fárbauti and into Odin through the contact. Their eyes met, and she nodded, dropping his hand. Frigga snatched it up worriedly before it could fall to his side.

"I've given you that, now, but it won't last," Fárbauti said wearily. Frigga smiled gratefully at her.

"Thank you, this is kind."

She turned her face toward Odin, worry shadowing her brow.

"Yet, still it is not enough. This magic, this holding spell, steals both of your strength. This magic comes with a price. There is still no time. For once, our son needs something we cannot provide."

Odin grimaced. "I can fight it a little longer..."

"But can she?" Frigga inserted sharply. Fárbauti said nothing. Frigga continued, "No. You've put it off too long! You weary her unnecessarily. I worry for you."

He touched her cheek while Fárbauti fumbled with the clasp of a pouch at her waist, pulling out a bottle full of a light blue liquid. She took a long swig, and after a moment she was able to stand straight. She had been slumped against the nearby table. Seeing that the king and queen were about to have a touching moment, she morphed back into the swift and hopped to the balcony. After nodding at Huginn and Muninn, she spread her wings and took flight. The two followed her like a black clad guard. Or a double shadow.

* * *

"Another!"

The cup smashed into a shower of fragments, the alcohol fueling the fire in the hearth. Naryu watched as Thor stalked proudly toward her and Loki. She was in her best dress, looking as wildly exotic as she ever did, and slightly more visually appealing as well. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Loki. He was smiling and calm, but she knew what roiled underneath the cool, cordial mask. Her heart panged. She was not royalty, would never rule, no matter what title was bestowed upon her by the royal family-but she did not care. And she knew how very much her adoptive brother did, as well as the fact that he never had a chance at getting the same throne as Thor. He was not the prince he thought. It killed her to keep silent all of those long years, laughing and crying together, playing and fighting together, casting spells together, but it wasn't her secret to tell.

"Nervous, brother?" he asked Thor as Naryu nibbled on her bottom lip broodingly.

"Have you ever known me to be nervous?" Thor retorted.

"There was the time in Nornheim...," Loki trailed off smoothly. Naryu's ears perked, ready to prevent a brawl but amused all the same.

"Play nice, boys," she chided playfully, a smile tugging good-naturedly at her full pink lips. Thor couldn't help being riled, though, and Loki couldn't help riling him.

"That wasn't nerves, brother. It was the rage of battle. How else could I have fought my way through a hundred warriors and pulled us out alive?"

Naryu heard the attendant approaching with more wine for Thor.

"As I recall, Naryu and I were the ones who veiled us in smoke to ease our escape."

The sister in question opened her mouth to protest being drug into the matter, but simply closed it instead.

"Some do battle, others just do tricks," Thor said hotly. The Attendant stifled a laugh. Naryu shot him a warning glare, but it was already too late for him. Loki gestured toward the goblet the attendant still held in the next second, his wrist undulating like a snapping whip. Eels spilt and overflowed over the rim, squirming. The attendant yelped as they slithered across his hands. Loki chuckled.

"Loki..." Thor began.

"I've got you covered," Naryu assured him, transforming the wriggling eels into limp strings of yarn.

"Now that was just a waste of good wine," Thor grumbled.

"Not exactly," Naryu muttered, waving her fingers over the strands in a semicircle. They rose and landed in her palm, dry. She pocketed them.

"Just a bit of fun," Loki shrugged nonchalantly, "Right, my friend?" he questioned the attendant.

"Don't-answer that," Naryu instructed, dismissing him and watching as he scurried away.

She turned back around just in time to see Thor don a winged helmet and hear Loki say "Nice feathers."

* * *

Naryu stood at the front of the hall with the Warriors Three, Sif, Frigga, Loki, and Fárbauti. The horn blew once more and some advanced guardsmen arrived with Odin. He sat with his great spear in full armor, Frigga joining him, and looked for Thor. His gaze swept over the area she shared with the others.

"Where is he?" she heard Volstagg whisper sotto voce to Loki. She herself didn't know. She tuned out the rest of the conversation, fretting. And then her showoff brother burst in, glaring and impossible to miss, and she wanted to strangle him.

Naryu groaned internally at Thor's showy display and outrageous entrance. She could see how strained and tired both Odin and Fárbauti were, even if to others it would appear that no trace of weakness existed; he, weary from fighting the inevitable Odinsleep and Fárbauti from lending him the energy and life-force to do so. If things kept going the same way they were in the enormous room, she thought, she just might receive her never-should-be throne, taking Thor's place with Loki as advisor. Or vice versa. Either way, it all had to end. There was a boom and a shaky shifting coming from down below. She spoke too soon.

Naryu expected screams and startled yells, but then she realized she was the only one affected. She was having a vision. She trembled, watching the havoc in slow motion. Intruders. The Allfather's Vault. Frost Giants. Unnecessary blood being spilled...

"Naryu?"

She opened her eyes with a gasp. She was on the floor, propped up by a kneeling Loki while Odin, Frigga, Fárbauti's worried gazes fixed on her, Odin's words dying on his lips. All of it had taken only a second. She would have said something, but at that moment, the alarms went off.

"Vault," she coughed, sitting up, "Frost Giants."

* * *

"What could it mean?" Loki mused, pacing. Naryu watched, nibbling on her bottom lip. She was torn. Half of her wanted to spill everything, the secret that wasn't hers, and face his wrath at last like a righteous flood for all the years of lies. The other half screamed at that half, saying, "Fool! Fool!" as it grasped onto the last sliver, the only remaining semblance, of what was left of her childhood confidant. The one that was fading away. The one she was losing.

"You saw what happened to my hand. What-what-"

**~"You will know the truth, and the truth will make you furious,"** Naryu said softly. Loki's head snapped up.

"What?"

Naryu stood abruptly. "You have a lot on your mind. Try to relax."

She left as quickly as she dared. Turning a corner, she ran into Sif. She was surprised to see a wary suspicion like that of a wildcat, a lithe leeriness, peering at her from the other woman's eyes.

"I-"

Before she knew what was going on, she was pinned to the wall, arms at her sides and Sif's face threateningly close.

"What have you silver-tongued ones been up to?" she hissed. Pressure was released off of Naryu's throat to allow an answer. She gulped in air gratefully at the opportunity.

"I know not what you speak-" Sif reapplied the pressure, shoving her further into the cold stone digging mercilessly into her back.

Having had enough, Naryu shifted into mist and escaped her grasp, reappearing down the corridor and massaging her throat and collarbone.

"I'm sorry that what happened happened. But strangling me for what he wrought with his own foolishness is not the answer."

Tears threatened Naryu as she schreeched at Sif, "How could you not think that I would not know what it felt like to lose Thor? Every time, again and again, I lose more of my brother. Go get him yourself! He's fine with the humans. What can they do? Now, if you don't mind, I'm going to see my father-our father, his and mine."

She darted away before Sif could finish processing her outburst, and she didn't stop until she reached the room she knew Frigga shared with Odin. Her adoptive mother sat regally across from him at a small table, lines of worry creasing her ever youthful face. Odin, for the most part, seemed to be holding it together. But Naryu knew that, even then, the old king was slowly losing control. And running out of time. They both looked up as she entered. Their hands were clasped, arms stretched across the table between them and fingers twined as if they were no older than Naryu.

"Father-Mother," she gasped, choking as she attempted to compose herself enough to form a coherent string of words. A single tear escaped the corner of her eye.

"It's Loki. I fear he may be...something happened on Jotunheim...I think that..." she drew a deep breath. "If he hasn't figured it out in the short time it took me to reach you, he will know."

"Know what?" Odin asked sharply. Frigga paled.

"The truth," she whispered. She looked away, hand going to her chest.

"You knew this day would come," Naryu said, "Do something. You have to do something."

Odin rose from his seat grunting. "I will go to him."

Frigga grabbed his hand.

"And tell him what, exactly?" Naryu fumed. Odin met her angry gaze.

"Enough. Every old man needs to be able to make up for his sins-or rather, his oversights."

Naryu, dazed, sagged against the wall behind her as he passed by her. She didn't even realize she had begun crying. When she did, she wasn't sure for whom she cried. There were so many lost to cry for.

* * *

**_**The Future, Approximately, or The Present**_**

_Fárbauti sighed as she held the Time compass between her hands. She sat in a chair by the window in her room, looking out across Asgard. At the sound of someone's approach, she snapped the lid shut over the face, slipping it into the pocket of her robes. She looked up as Naryu entered the room._

_"Should you not be in the Throne Room with the King, Duchess Naryu?"_

_"It's time, Dashta. The truth is long overdue. It's time you told it and went by your proper name."_

_Fárbauti sighed, straightening. "You are right, of course. After Jotunheim, I know he had questions. I know not what Odin may have told him...but I know it was not the whole truth. I spoke with him just before he succumbed to the Odinsleep. He warned me I would have explaining to do...and that he lied to protect me because he thought I should be the one to tell Loki, because he finally realized it was my secret to tell and he should have let me long ago."_

_"Now comes the difficult part-telling Loki."_

_"Telling me what?" Loki asked smoothly as he came through the doorway. Fárbauti sucked in her breath and squeezed her eyes shut as Naryu turned to face Loki. __He stood regally, in full helm with Gungnir __gripped tightly in hand. _

_"It is not my secret to tell, though I have the knowledge and was directly involved," Naryu responded, looking down and away. "Yet you have a right to know."_

_"Know what?" he asked. His sister remained silent. "TELL ME!" he yelled. "What must I know? What other truths were held from me?"_

_He grabbed her, shaking her like a rag doll. She let him, tears spilling as she kept her peace._

**_"~I don't know who I am- or who I was, before I was stolen,_**_" he snarled. Finally, she met his frantic gaze._

**_"~I know this is hard, but you are forgetting about the three people who did want you. They chose you, they loved you, they raised you-"_**

_"With lies," he spat, his nails digging into her upper arms through her sleeves. __**"~You don't keep secrets from people you love. How could they let me find out like that?"**_

**_"~Ask," _**_she told him calmly._

_"I have asked, but you have denied me the answers."_

_"Because you have asked the wrong person. I tell you, it is not my right to say, but it is your right to know."_

_"What was it you were sure I needed to know?" he asked, almost pitifully, the anguish clear on his face. Fárbauti stood soundlessly behind Naryu._

_"To begin with things," she said, surprising them both, "do you remember the story of the lost Queen?"_

_Loki looked up, puzzled, but replied, "Yes. It was obviously a lie Father told you when you came to the palace. I apologize, Dashta."_

_Fárbauti winced. "Do you remember her name?"_

_"Fárbauti," he supplied with ease._

_"The story was not a lie," she said, her voice strengthening as she continued. He released Naryu at her next words and stepped towards her. "I knew your mother. We both did, I intimately so."_

_"Tell me, then, Dashta," he whispered, and she squeezed her eyes tight again for the strength she knew she needed to break her son's heart. "Who was she?"_

_"Are you sure you want to know the answer, truly?" she pressed._

_"Yes!" he exclaimed, "Please tell me and end this...if you love me."_

_Fárbauti reached for his hand. "You are not a monster, and you were loved, Loki, always loved. She never forgot you; she hid you in plain sight. You must understand, both of you would have been killed."_

_His eyes hardened. "She abandoned me."_

_"She did not. She has always kept her watchful eye on you, making sure you were never in any real danger, and she was and is so proud of you."_

_"How can you know all of this? It must mean that she lives and you have kept contact with her."_

_"No, Loki," Fárbauti whispered, pained as his face twisted with confusion._

_"But-" he started to protest._

_"Loki," she interrupted, "I am your mother. I am Fárbauti...Queen of Jotunheim...I am your mother."_

_A few things happened at once. One of them was the maelstrom of confusion etched clearly up and down Loki as he stared, taught like a bowstring._

_"Mother?" he whispered._

_"Yes," Fárbauti whispered in return._

Fárbauti let her tears flow openly as she reached out ever so gingerly and caressed his cheek. Her son. After all of those years, she could offer such a gentle touch with nothing concealed between them. He was of her, Fárbauti, and at last, he knew it. There was a moment when it seemed like she could crush him to her chest and all would be well, but it died as soon as his eyes hardened again.

"You-you abandoned me," he said, all fiery emotion.

"You left me for the All-father to discover, like some discarded piece of clothing, or-"

"No," Fárbauti said forcefully, Loki going silent both from habit and the urging in her voice.

"You were loved, always loved. All of it, I swear, all of it was for you."

She gently pried his cold hand from his side and pressed it to her heart. She was neither as cold as the Frost Giants nor as warm as the Aesir. Neither was he. They were not the same temperature, but she knew that no one else came as close to his. Despite his rage, his body automatically found comfort in the touch. She kept him quiet with her eyes the way she used to when he was a child, and she told him. Told him the story of the Swindled Queen, her story, told him of what she sacrificed, minced no details of her imprisonment, wept with bitter passion over how Laufey had wanted him drowned and how she had fled and hid him in the temple, protected with enchantments, to seek out the All-father. She let her sorrow coil around them as she spoke of the long years watching him grow up and not being able to tell anyone of their secret-even him, and how she would transition from wanting him to know and not wanting him to know. He seemed to listen, face clearing. When she finally stopped speaking, her gouge fading, still he let her hold his hand. Fárbauti indulged herself, wiping away the single tear that lay on his cheek, softly stroking the bridge o his nose, straightening his robes. Loki's eyes had focused somewhere faraway. Fárbauti got to the point when she could no longer bear the silence.

"Loki," she whispered, and receiving no response, "Son."

He looked down at her at that word. Son. He stood a head taller than her.

"I-never-knew," he whispered heatedly. His eyes glistened as more tears threatened. He had never shed so many at one time, perhaps ever.

"But now you do," Fárbauti soothed. She drew closer and hugged him tightly.

"This is why you were able to tutor us...why you knew so much about me that others didn't, why-"

"Yes, yes, all of that later...son," she murmured dismissively into his chest. His head rose, tears gone and eyes a stormy grey-black-navy blue.

"You knew as well," he said slowly, almost glaring at Naryu, who had listened silently the entire time.

"Was everything a lie and nothing the truth?"

Naryu straightened defensively. "Not all of it. Not the important things. We loved you. We love you. We only held your best interest at heart."

"Our. Entire. Lives. Our entire lives, Naryu. You knew the entire time," he sibilated. Naryu blanched.

"Don't let your anger rip you apart," Fárbauti whispered, drawing back slightly.

"She knew what you were-what we were-and she didn't care. She judged you by the content of your character, and they me, as well as with you. You didn't need to know as long as you were never alone. Were you ever alone? Can you ever think of a time when you were truly in need, truly beaten down, dispirited, frustrated, or defeated, that I was not there, that she was not, that Frigga was not, that Thor was not, that Odin was not? You are so much more than Laufey's legacy. You are and always were Loki Fárbautison-even if you didn't always know it. You are a part of me, and I, your mother, am a part of you."

A beat passed, two, and for that short time he seemed to calm, seemed to be remembering how he had always seemed to matter most to her, how she would whisper new hexes to him when Frigga was in the other room or show him a new trick when Odin wasn't looking, or perhaps create spells with him.

"You knew I would never be king."

Naryu's eyes flashed. **~"The cup you choose to fill is bottomless. This is madness."**

"~ What if I told you that **power** **means more to me than you ever will?"**

"Then I'd say you were a liar. And so would Hermione. Haven't forgotten about her, have you?"

His face contorted. "Have care what you speak of."

They stared long and hard at each other. With a rough jerk, he disentangled his mother from him.

"Guards," he called. Three appeared at the door.

"Take them."

Naryu and Fárbauti were shackled together being led down to the dungeons when Naryu stumbled down the steps, and would have fallen down the entire flight, dragging Fárbauti with her, if not for the guard nearest her catching her by the arm. She shrugged him off and advanced a few steps so that a few feet separated her and the former Jotunn Queen from them.

"Laufey...he's going to let Laufey into Asgard so he can slay him," she whispered urgently from the corner of her mouth.

"We have to stop him."

"You're sure?"

"Yes," she whispered.

"Then we better stop complying."

"What? Don't these cuffs neutralize-didn't Loki charm them against us?"

"He didn't think to charm them against himself," Fárbauti murmured. "We are more alike than he thinks. He made them more towards the Sylph...he neglected the Faerie magic. He neglected the touch Frost left on me."

Not soon after, they stood over unconscious guards, discarding the cuffs. They ran back towards the surface, rushed through the halls.

"Could you tell by your vision when exactly?"

"Soon," Naryu huffed. They burst into Odin and Frigga's chamber to be met with the sight of the Queen hugging Loki tightly, dead Frost Giants strewn about and Laufey's corpse at his feet; he murmured a promise to her.

~"**_Blood will spill blood and the _****_stones_****_ will run red,"_** Naryu whispered, horrified. Loki looked up then, startled, and at the same time she and Fárbauti were roughly pushed aside as Thor entered. Frigga rushed to her other son, hugging him just as tightly. Thor released her quickly, confronting Loki.

"Why don't you tell them how you sent the Destroyer to kill our friends, to kill me," Thor said as he began circling Loki.

"No, no, no!" Naryu cried, both as the vision began to come true and as another familiar, old, buried vision was ripped from her subconscious to her conscious thought. The rift. The fall. Loki. Pain seared behind her eyes. She shut them tightly, rocking, not realizing she was whispering his name over and over.

"What?" gasped Frigga. She was not as all knowing as she seemed.

"Well, I must have been enforcing Father's last command," Loki lied easily. Naryu screamed.

"What's wrong with her? Have you tried to kill her as well, brother?"

"No, she's seeing something," Fárbauti whispered, kneeling, and Naryu heard nothing else in her torment as the only mother she had known besides Frigga held her, cooled her with her touch until it passed. When she looked up a few moments later, at last free, the room was devoid of her brothers and Frigga...

Fárbauti grabbed her by her shoulders.

"What did you see? You must tell me!"

Naryu pushed her away. Fárbauti, unsuspecting, landed on her backside. Naryu stumbled up and ran, shifting between light and mist and the form of a swift to get to the Bifrost before it was too late. She almost faltered except that she finally noticed Odin, quite awake and holding onto something from the edge. She hadn't noticed his absence in her rush. She knew he had Thor and Thor grasped the great spear-and holding it loosely was Loki. She knew what was coming. She threw herself over the edge just as he let go, saw him plummet downwards. She heard their father and brother saying something as she launched herself over the edge, free falling after him and wondering what the hell she had been thinking.

This time the scream and fear were her own as the _things_ chattered.


	11. Caught In The Web

**The Remnant Prince**

**A/N: This chapter was beta-ed. I will go back and fix the last and any others later. Other updates will not be this soon.**

* * *

**Ch.10: Caught In The Web**

**_**The Future, Approximately, or The Present**_**

Naryu could still see her brother, dropping below her like a stone. His eyes were closed, his arms outstretched. An itchy, prickling sensation started making its way up her spine, moving into her shoulder blades. Pain bubbled to the surface like razors slicing her skin and her bones there began to ache, making her cry out in pain. With a final stab, the wings she had wished for as a child sprang outward, ripping and tearing the back of her shirt and baring her shoulders. The new appendages tripped her up uselessly, throwing her off-balance and sending her into a twirled descent through the blackness end over end.

A portal: that was the only thing that would save their lives. She had one in her robes, a portal cube. Her last portal cube. She had learned how to fashion the portable doors, or windows rather, when she was still living with her kind. She was already ice cold. Her trembling fingers fumbled numbly in her pockets, clammy as they slid against the fabric of her robes. It seemed an eternity before they closed over the object. It was warm slightly in all that cold, like solid sunshine, and fuzzy under her fingertips.

Forcefully wrenching her new wings around so they were behind her, Naryu caught Loki, though she wasn't sure how. He was unconscious. She pulled him close, realizing she needed a flat surface for the portal. Swearing, she sunk into despair. Until she remembered the book in her other pocket. Regretfully, she pulled out the text, admiring it one final time. She enlarged it, angled it just below them with her free arm, and, somehow, set the cube atop it.

Naryu heard the barely audible pop ring in her ear, felt the portal open and pull on them. She didn't think to concentrate as something came near them in that dark place. She just forced them through the sucking portal mouth before them and would have prayed, if she did that sort of thing, that nothing followed them.

* * *

**_**Approximate Present, or The Past**_**

He knew he shouldn't go to the ball. Watching her with that detestable Victor Krum made his stomach turn over. The fool couldn't say her name, he was clumsy on the ground, or any flat surface for that matter, he lacked etiquette, grace, or eloquence, he lacked any real brain power and Hermione's mind far outstripped his feeble one. Loki loathed him. He despised the sound of the hated voice, turned his nose up in distaste at the ungainly gait.

He told her so. Constantly. He knew she wasn't happy: he just wished she knew it, too. Rosalie was inclined to agree with him. He really didn't see how she was a Hufflepuff. All of this he pondered as he stood in the crowd of students congregated in front of the Great Hall doors, waiting. He had almost given up when he saw her at last, having thought that perhaps she had change her mind or left the absurd mortal wizard far behind.

Hermione smiled, and it was for him, only for he, Loki, and Loki knew it. The only other person he was visible to was Rosalie, who stood off to one side eyeing them amusedly, lovely and alone, a party crasher. No, definitely not a Hufflepuff. Hermione had tamed her hair through some miracle, and the result was that it had never looked quite so soft or so been so curly. The pink dress she wore fell gently against the contours of her body as if it were a mere blush against her flesh. And her makeup...what makeup? She wore not a trace. She was beautiful, truly beautiful, his real-life Matilda.

Loki blinked and frowned to himself at that odd thought, smoothing his features out as she descended the stairs beaming. Loki waited until Krum had gone for drinks to appear again, choosing to sit in the baboon's chair.

"You look dashing," Hermione commented, leaning back in her seat and crossing her ankles.

"As do you," he replied. She watched as he fished something out of his pocket.

When he opened his gloved hand, a strange medallion lay in his palm. He dangled it in front of her face. She caught it against the flat of her palm, staring at it intently. It made her hand tingle.

"There's magic in this," she murmured, meeting his gaze. They were leaning across the table then, oblivious and invisible to all others barring Rosalie.

Loki paused a beat, then admitted, "Yes."

He elaborated no further. "Put it on and never take it off, promise me."

"I-" she began, "it's just a-"

"Promise me," he pressed her. She gazed between it and his face thoughtfully before nodding, once.

"You'll have to help with the clasp."

He obliged, sliding behind her. He brushed her loosely fallen curls out of the way, his fingers ghosting over her bare shoulders and lingering ever so slightly. Bending towards her ear as he fastened it, he whispered, "It has a trick clasp and is difficult to break. You'll probably forget about it until you need it."

She brought her hand up to hold his in place as he retreated. "Why would I need it?"

She turned around to peer up at him suspiciously.

"My dear Hermione, we both know that you'll follow them."

She didn't ask who, what, when, or where. She knew, and he knew she knew. There was no explanation necessary.

"I just don't want to see you get hurt."

"whose place did I take?" she asked him. His eyebrows knit together. "Whatever do you mean, silly girl?" he asked.

"Everything you take comes with a price. Who's paying my price? Whose protection do I have?"

"Would it matter?" he asked sharply. Hermione's brown eyes flashed fiercely. He loved that burning passion.

"Shouldn't it?" she retorted evenly. He paused.

"Not everything is stolen," he replied, backing away. It was then that she saw a matching amulet around his neck, and then that he disappeared into the crowd.

"Here is your drink, Herm-own-ninny," Victor's voice sliced through her search. Reluctantly, she turned away. She took the glass. "Thank you."

The words were not for Victor. But he could think so.

* * *

**_**The Future, Approximately, or The Present**_**

Fárbauti's agonized scream pierced the air as she watched Naryu dive off of the edge after her son. Loki. She fell at the edge having dodged Thor and Odin's grasp. She struggled, biting and kicking as she wept bitterly.

"NO, NO!" she sobbed, at last slumping dejectedly back into Thor's strong chest, allowing his muscled arms to encircle her, to hold and ground her. She could not stand if she did not think he was there to help her do it. She felt weak, as if all was lost. All _was_ lost. He set her down, gently, a few feet away, and she fell over onto her side, curling in on herself like a kicked dog and mumbling incoherent nonsense.

"She's in shock," a voice said.

"She's in pain," another corrected, and, as ragged gasps escaped her chest like the cries of a wounded beast, she heard Frigga say, "A part of her has died, as has a part of me."

Her son, her only son...

* * *

Loki awoke with a stabbing pressure behind his eyes. He opened them slowly. The hard surface he had felt underneath his back was an unforgiving _rocky_ surface. He sat up slowly, wincing. The air was still and stale. The light was a strange, dark half-light, gloomy and murky. He was in some sort of natural cave formation. He had no idea how he had gotten there, thought himself alone. Movement of something else quickly changed his mind.

"You're awake."

Naryu moved into the faint light coming from the outside. Her hair was disheveled, her clothes torn slightly and her eyes wild. She eyed him warily. It hurt. Of everyone in his life from Asgard, he never thought she of all people would view him with suspicion. Of course, he _had_ been prepared to throw her into a dungeon with his own mother. He had been angry. He was still angry. But he also had to protect his weaknesses, and he loved them too much to leave them vulnerable. He had needed Frigga, needed her because she would believe the lie, the rouse, hail him a hero. Naryu stared at him a moment longer, and then she lunged forward and slapped him, hard.

"Is that any way to treat a weary traveler?" he said, gingerly touching his face. She ignored him, instead staring at him again.

"Do you know what you've done? Do you know what you've done!" she screeched.

"YES!" he yelled at last, reacting to her, "Yes, of course I did! I only did what was expected of me!"

This time when she lunged, he put his arms up to fend her off, thinking he didn't want to harm her. He was surprised when her arms clamped around him in a fierce hug.

"You're a complete fool, brother," she whispered. His hands felt something strange behind her, something that shouldn't have been. Something warm and ethereal, some membranous thing...

"Your wings," he whispered. Naryu sat back on her heels, smiling despite herself or her anger.

"Yes," she whispered. Her smile fell. "It happened when we were plummeting to our doom in that spacial rift."

"I recall only myself and Thor hanging on by a thread...and no one else. Only the All-father was present..."

"You didn't see me," Naryu said with quiet surprised. "I don't know what came over me...I had a vision and I knew what would happen...I knew you let go. Why, Loki? Why let go? Why any of this?"

"I need not explain myself to you, sister," he replied, turning his head aside.

"What was so terrible that you had to do that?"

"What?" he hissed suddenly, "Take the throne a Frost Giant should never have or try to ensure I was no longer anyone's problem?"

"Don't you _dare_ tell me you had nothing to live for," Naryu snarled.

**~"You know, why is it that families keep so many secrets from each other?"** Loki asked angrily.

Naryu calmed slightly. "Is this what everything has been about?"

Loki glared at the cave ceiling. "Not everything."

**~"Well...because family's so important. It's the hardest love to lose and that's why it's so difficult to tell them how you feel...or what you know."**

"You're saying they were protecting me?" he thundered, shaking his head, "No, I won't believe that."

Naryu reached for his hand, about to reply, when a paralytic pain had them both gasping on their sides.

Ugly, metallic looking figures scrambled inside and drug them out into the open. They both gazed upward when they were thrown before someone's feet. Loki saw that there were actually two somethings. One was heavily cloaked, the other a hideous purple being.

"The half-Jotunn prince Loki, my Lord," the cloaked figure informed the second, hulking figure. The helmeted head lifted, the face that of a gruesome, skull-like being, with eerie blue eyes peering at the two Asgardians with a chilled, calculating greed.

"Excellent. Take them to our dungeons...see how they are after our complimentary welcome."

"Of course, my Lord Thanos."

Chains bound them and they were hauled roughly to their feet. Thanos tilted Naryu's chin upward, turning her face from side to side.  
"Who is this one?" he asked the Other.

"If sources are correct, Master, she is his first cousin, Naryu Astelm, daughter of Farose , her father, and Div, her mother…the unrelated half-siblings of Queen Fárbauti. "


	12. The Descent

The Remnant Prince

Thanks, people. R & R! Well I know y'all do the first R. Can I pretty please have more of the second R too? K.

* * *

**Ch. 11: The Descent**

_****Approximate Present, or The Past****_

"Very clever."

Hermione looked up. Her eyes landed on a familiar trickster. Ron's arm slung over her shoulder, she was dragging the unconscious, moaning deadweight towards the exit, having just figured out Professor Snape's logic puzzle.

"I could have used the help," she grunted, staggering through the next doorway.

"I rather thought you could handle the less physical pursuit."

Frowning, Hermione eased Ron onto the floor. She pointed her wand at him, and a moment later, head lolling, he was hovering midair.

"Seems you have the situation under control," Loki commented. He kept pace beside her until she reached the trap door, whereupon he took her hand.

"The exit's this way."

"Thanks," she muttered sarcastically, noticing the staircase along the wall that led up to it. Once they were to the top, he sprang out, offering his hand to her. Once he pulled her free she raised Ron. Something occurred to her.

"What happened to Fluffy?"

Loki smirked. Her eyes narrowed.

"What did you do to him?"

He pointed behind her. The great beast was sprawled out unconscious, heads all laying at different angles and serpentine tongues drooping as they slobbered in their sleep.

"Sleeping."

"How?" she asked. Ron moaned. Loki withdrew an empty pouch. "Sleep powder from Asgard."

"You know, we could have used that," she interjected hotly. He shrugged.

"I knew you'd come through. You always do."

"And what if I hadn't?"

"Then I would have intervened."

Like their first encounter, Naryu's voice interrupted.

"I've alerted your staff here. You haven't much time."

Hermione nodded her head.

"You woke Neville, or led McGonagall to him."

Or impersonated him and altered his memory, no one said. No answer was needed.

"I expect you two will visit me this summer?"

"You presume too much," Loki objected loftily, until Naryu stomped on his foot. Scowling, his face melted into sincerity. "But of course."

Someone began fumbling at the door to the room.

"Go," Hermione told them. They vanished just as the door opened.

"Miss Granger?" Professor McGonagall's voice called.

"We're in here, Professor!"

Her first year passed and her second arrived soon afterward.

* * *

"That's a good look for you."

Hermione startled, half in and half out of sleep. She sat up a second later fully awake. Loki was perched on the end of her hospital bed.

"Mother fucker," she muttered crossly, eyeballing him. He tsked.

"My, my, what foul language for one so young," he admonished in mock horror, "However did you come by that phrase? It's made you a wonderful wordsmith."

"Slytherins," she replied tersely. His eyes rove downward, catching sight of something. Her tail, she realized. She would have colored any other day.

She hurriedly attempted to pull her tail beneath the blanket, but he found it first. The tip twitched in irritation.

"Take a picture, it lasts longer," she snapped. He chuckled, replying with a smirk, "Don't enable me."

"You could have stopped this, you know," she sighed, falling back onto her pillows and allowing him to continue examining her new appendage.

"Oh, I know. But what great fun it is to watch you fight your own battles. Makes you stronger. Although you didn't ask, either."

"I shouldn't have to," she retorted, glaring. He seemed to pause.

"Would you have me entrenched in all of the trifling affairs here?"

"Trifling? Loki, the last time this happened, a girl _died_."

He approached her, prodding one of her twitching cat ears. Something was pressed firmly into her hands. "Use it wisely."

She glanced down. A palm mirror lay in her mitts.

"I'm afraid I won't need one of these for quite some time. I mean, look at me!"

"I see you," he assured her, "And I'm sorry, but that's not what this is for."

"Then why?"

"You'll figure it out," he whispered into her ear, ruffling her fur and her hair. She latched onto him, hugging him tightly.

Later that year, when Hermione first opened her eyes from the effects of petrification, they met a sea of concerned mossy amethyst.

"You were right," she croaked, voice rough from disuse.

"About what?" Loki inquired smugly.

"The concept of faith and trust you have."

"And you said you'd never be friends," Naryu laughed, stepping up to the bed out of nowhere.

"You followed me," Loki accused.

"Yep," Naryu trilled cheerfully. Hermione could only laugh.

* * *

_****The Future, Approximately, or The Present****_

Being in the filthy interstice of a cell and being chained to a wall was not something Naryu had ever imagined happening to her, even when Loki had attempted to imprison her. Her only consolation was that her brother was contained in the same cell as hers, if chained to the opposite wall. They had been beaten, but not yet tortured. She wasn't sure if it had been only a few days or over a week. Everything blurred after the first few hours.

Every possible surface was highlighted in shades of grey and black, and there was no window to observe the outside or to know the time of day or night.

Her eye was swollen shut, and peering through the gloom, she could see that blood crusted Loki's brow, his usually sleek black hair in disarray. Her own long, blonde hair had been reduced to knots and tangles full of kinks and filth.

"Are you all right, brother?" Naryu croaked hoarsely. His shackles clinked as he moved in the darkness. She thought he would not respond.

"I've been better...sister."

She heard him shift again. "How did your wings fare?"

She turned toward him and away from the wall as best she could, cautiously unfolding them.

"They're sore, and there's a little bruise on one, but otherwise they remain intact."

They were thin but sturdy, light but durable. There were no pinions. Hers were like that of a bat, all membrane, spider-webbed and crisscrossed with veins and nerves, the color a milky white.

"I hear they-white wings, that is-change color according to your diet," she rasped. "If it's pretty even, they stay like this for the most part. But if I feasted mainly on something like, say, strawberries or amaranth, or only on the golden apples, they would be red or gold."

Footsteps could be heard approaching. As swiftly as she could, Naryu retracted them, turning her back towards the far wall of their prison.

"Have you any magic?" she whispered urgently, and Loki heard the twinge of fear in her voice she would never speak of.

"No," he replied bitterly. "I've only the frost, and it's not cold enough."

He was right: It was stifling in the cramped quarters, with no water in sight.

Naryu slumped against the stones dejectedly. The door rattled open, and Thanos appeared. He was an unnatural, frightening apparition to take in. She and Loki watched Thanos apprehensively as he came to a standstill in the center of the cell. He spoke.

"I see you've had a pleasant stay so far."

Neither of them made a sound.

"Have you come for something, or have you a need to sneer down at us?" Loki blurted scornfully. Thanos let his soulless eyes wander into Loki's corner momentarily. Smirking, he turned back toward Naryu. He extricated a small pouch from his pocket, pouring some of the contents into his open palm. In one wrenching move, he tore Naryu's sleeve away, leaving her arm bare. Then he did something Loki didn't quite understand until Naryu screamed in agony: he blew the powder on her arm.

She writhed in her fetters. Where the powder touched, irritated, burned flesh remained, a spattering of angry red. Whimpering, she sank even further against the unforgiving stones.

"Silver powder," Thanos explained simply, "It burns Sylphs."

Eyeing Loki, who glared at him with undeniable hatred and loathing, he walked closer and crouched down to his level so that they were eye to eye.

"Your turn."

Loki had no other warning before something akin to Fiendfyre bit into his left arm. Unlike Naryu, he denied Thanos the satisfaction of showing his pain. He remained stoic for her sake. He noticed suddenly that Thanos palmed a little silver dagger. Leaning in, he whispered.

" I know ways to make you bleed without killing you, so that you feel everything. If you don't pass out from the pain, I can assure you that you will not enjoy this, this will not be swift, and it will be excruciating...even more so for her."

His cruel blue eyes trailed across the room, landing on the still crumpled Naryu.

"Nasty thing, Silver," Thanos continued.

"Do to me what you will," Loki hissed.

"Make no mistake; I will," Thanos replied.

"How about this: I push you to the brink, break your mind, unleash all of your envy and weak wickednesses, and then let you loose on her, so delusional and high on hallucinogens that you rip her heart out with this knife."

Loki swallowed. His eyes blacker than the cell lighting, he hissed, "Tell me what you require of me."

Thanos smiled. "I knew you would see my way, Loki Laufeyson. You will invade and conquer for me in exchange for her freedom."

Loki swallowed. "I request one more thing."

"What? The assurance of the salvation of your own hide? I thought better of you, but I may concede."

"No...the assurance that you will not hurt my mother or..."

"Your real mother? Or Queen Frigga?" the Titan interrupted.

"Both," Loki whispered, "And...anyone who shares our magical bond, along with their family."

Thanos threw his head back, laughing maniacally. "You mean to save your mortal pet and her family. How amusing, how intuiting! How very pathetic and vulnerable you are!"

"Will you do it?" Loki persisted, masking his shock that the Mad Titan knew of Hermione at all. But then, he knew of Naryu and their apparent relation as well.

"Why of course my dear prince-" he leaned closer, his lips over Loki's ear "-but know that I will kill them all should you refuse...or fail...and I will kill her first of all."

Loki closed his eyes in defeat. Opening them, and seeing Naryu again, he met Thanos' eyes.

"What is my first task?"

* * *

"Naryu," the voice called quietly. Naryu cracked her eyes open to slits. She couldn't believe her eyes. A figure she thought she might never see, one from her childhood before Asgard, hunched before her.

"Alosa," she breathed. His teeth flashed in the dark.

**~"Your voice is a song. Say it again."**

"Alosa," she complied, smiling. His hand reached out and caressed the curve of her right wing behind her shoulder.

"I see you got them. You were ever so anxious when we were little."

"How did you find me?" she breathed. He continued stroking the wing, sending pulsing sensations through the entirety of it.

"I had a vision of you."

He slid his eyes around the walls, landing on Loki.

"Have you heard of the Ragnarok prophecy?" Alosa whispered. Naryu nodded. "I fear he has as well. **~He's feeling a lot of confusion and anger."**

"Come, we have not much time."

Alosa broke her shackles, helping her stand without touching or jarring her burned arm. Her frantic eyes sought out her brother.

"Now Loki."

Alosa seemed reluctant, but her pleading made him follow her to Loki's side. She knelt down, pulling at the chain on the wall one-handed, then dropping it and messing with his shackles. She was weak, and tired, and her magic evaded her from being so long in the iron bracelets.

"Be careful of his left arm," she instructed as she watched Alosa prepare to free him.

"Do not touch me."

"You are awake!" Naryu whispered excitedly, lowering to the ground once more. Loki lifted his head. "Be gone from here."

Naryu's eyebrows contracted together. "But-"

"You didn't understand me? I only spoke plainly: leave. Now. With him."

He directed his gaze on Alosa. "You will keep her safe or I shall kill you."

Alosa's eyes flashed. He would have replied if not for the pounding of footsteps from down the corridor. Naryu eyed him desperately.

"There is still time, brother, if we hurry."

"You know there is no place for me. And he will kill you all if I do not comply."

Tears streamed down Naryu's face. "You will make it through this and the people who matter will still love you. We will be waiting."

Alosa grabbed her roughly, throwing a portal cube of his own down. They vanished before Loki's eyes. He inclined his head enough to see the figure in the doorframe step over the threshold into the cell.

"You did not flee."

"We do have a deal."

"Indeed. And you have what you love ensured. Now choose which realm to invade, and choose wisely."

Loki paused. "Midgard. They are weak, easily conquered," he said smoothly.

Thanos regarded him coolly. "Acceptable."

He reached down with a quickness Loki didn't think he possessed and pushed his hand into his chest. Thanos was going to rip his heart out magically. If someone held another's heart in that way, they owned that person, they could control them. They could manipulate any words they said, or kill them by crushing it.

Thanos tugged...and nothing happened. He retracted his hand, tried again. Loki laughed openly at him.

"Can't take my heart? There is a certain skill to it, if you will..."

Thanos pulled and twisted, yanked, but to no avail. Finally, he stood.

"Guard," he called. One of the creatures that had abducted Loki and Naryu scuttled in. Thanos whispered in its ear. It returned with the Other, who carried a scepter with a wickedly sharp, curved point, a glowing blue jewel adorning it.

Thanos took it, seemed to weigh it with each hand. He peered down at Loki.

"If I cannot have your heart, then I will confuse it."

Loki pushed himself as far as he could away from it; it wasn't far. The tip touched his chest, just over his heart. Loki's eyes glazed over to match a pulsing, electric, eerie blue not unlike that of Thanos...or the jewel on the scepter he held.

**~"You know what you love**," Thanos sneered, "now** go kill it."**

The amulet that was a twin to Hermione's still hung underneath his clothes, it's glowing and warmth hidden by them.

* * *

Fárbauti watched the girl for a time. She didn't know if she had the strength to face her son's...whatever she meant to him. She no longer hid her appearance. All of Asgard had been shocked to discover the full truth, and the weight of the deception had driven a rift between her and every one of the courts. She had only Frigga, Odin, Thor, and the Ravens. All of the others only saw her as the source from which her trickster son sprang. They conceived her as a bigger liar than he. It would not have been so bad if she was not the Queen of Jotunheim. The old distrust from the day she had betrayed her own kingdom still rang fresh in their minds. They saw not their friend for centuries or their old ally. They saw only a threat, waited only for her to slip up and reveal herself.

She sighed sadly, finally making herself visible to Hermione.

Hermione had been helping with post-war reconstruction of the wizarding world and wizarding society, and advocating for peace, tolerance, abs civil rights of other magical beings. She, Naryu and Loki had decided that while they all sorted out their politics at home, what with all of the post-war work for her and the fallout after Thor caused a war with Jotunheim for them, they should tend to their own needs and regroup later. She was walking through a rubble filled hall of Hogwarts, examining the damage herself since most of the others were too busy when she saw her.

She knew instantly whose mother she had to be. She had the same hair, the same eyes, the same facial structure and lips, and she carried herself in a similar fashion. Hermione could feel a familiarity about her aura and her magic as the woman approached. She wore her hair in a long braid that hung over her shoulder, and unlike her son, she dined a deep, rich, majestic purple. They stared at each other from opposite ends of the corridor for one long moment, and then she turned and began walking away._ Follow me_, she seemed to say. Her figure beckoned. Hermione scrambled after her.

She followed her until they came to a stop at a familiar haunt: the Room of Requirement. Hermione was afraid the sacred room filled with so many memories, of magic and dancing sessions and something achingly comforting and familiar, had been destroyed by the Fiendfyre. Once inside, though, her worry fell away. The Room worked its usual magic. His mother had chosen a quaint, cozy setting that Hermione hazarded to guess resembled a place from Asgard.

"Sit," Loki's mother beckoned. Hermione sat.

"I am-" Hermione began.

"You are Hermione Jean Granger, yes, I know. Do you know who I am?"

Hermione straightened. "You're Loki's birth mother."

The woman before her smiled sadly. "Do you know what my name is?"

Hermione shook her head. "No."

His mother sat back in her chair.

"I am Fárbauti, Queen of Jotunheim, mother of Loki, wife of Laufey, Dashta of Naryu Astelm and Thor Odinson. Will you listen to my story?"

Hermione sat up a bit straighter, feeling woozy from the greeting. "Yes."

Fárbauti smiled in relief, lifting a picnic basket. Opening the lid, she said softly, "Good. I trust you know what all of this is?"

Hermione peered inside, sniffing. "The Golden Apples of Youth, Amaranth, Nectar and Ambrosia?"

"Mm. My son and daughter taught you many things, did they not?"

"Many things," Hermione agreed, smiling. "How are they?"

"Fárbauti bit her lip, her eyes growing moist.

"I brought you here...I brought you here because something terrible has happened," she sobbed, losing control, her head falling onto her chest. Hermione went to her, crouching by her seat.

"What has happened?" she pressed gently. Fárbauti lifted her head, touching Hermione's face.

"I have no way to soften this...Naryu and Loki are lost...and now for the story."


	13. Apropos Dealings

**The Remnant Prince**

**I apologize for any mistakes ahead of time,and also for the delay. This Rumpelstiltskin is the one from OUATs, and a separate fic (Rumbelle) may be written with its own Hogwarts AU. Nightshade will be coming no later than January! Also, there were no quotes in this chapter. Thanks to all who read or reviewed. Feel free to PM or review. **

**-Lithy**

**P.S.: all changes and improvements will be made later, and chapter...ten, I believe? That chapter will be revised soon, I promise!**

* * *

_**Ch. 12: Apropos Dealings**_

_****Approximately Approximate****_

**FORBIDDEN FOREST,**

**HOGWARTS, **

**HERMIONE'S MIDGARD**

Rosalie dearly hoped her plan would work as she paced the clearing in the Forbidden Forest with the hood of her cloak drawn up, her face hidden in shadow. "Rumpelstiltskin," she whispered, twisting her trembling hands spasmodically. She repeated the name like a chant. "Rumpelstiltskin, Rumpelstiltskin."

"You called, dearie?" She whirled. He stood behind her in the shadows, grinning mischievously, and she swallowed, plucking up her courage for her resolve. This was for her sister. A chat for her sister. He stepped out into the moonlight. She gasped. "Well I don't have all day, dearie," he said, holding his hands wide, "or should I say all _night_?"

"I need your help."

"Well of course you do, dearie. I know how to spot a desperate soul." He circled her. Rosalie felt nervous, turning to keep eye contact. "Now, what would you be needing?"

"Information," Rosalie breathed. The Dark One paused. "That'll come with a price, you know," he told her quietly. She lifted her chin. "I know. Everything comes with a price with you."

"Right you are, dearie, right you are. Name your request."

"Well, what I have to say is...unusual, to say the least."

"Go on," he encouraged, tilting his head to the side and lightly placing his hands together. Rosalie took a deep breath.

There it went.

"I have an offer for you. If you tell me how to find someone's heart after they've ripped it out magically, I'll tell you something I know you'll want to hear." He stepped closer to her, whispering by her ear. "And how do I know I'll want to hear what you have to offer?" Rosalie waited a beat for effect before turning into him and pressing her lips as close to his ear as she dared, whispering, "Because it concerns Belle."

In a flash, he had her by her throat, looking her in the eye. "Did Regina send you? Did she tell you to do this?" he sibilated angrily. "Answer me! Did the Evil Queen put you up to this?" Rosalie struggled feebly, pawing at his hand and whimpering. He released her, and she fell to the ground gasping.

"I don't know what you're talking about," she gulped, massaging her throat.

"Whatever you've got to say, say it quickly," he warned.  
"I need to be able to find someone's heart. They took it to protect the ones they love. And now they cannot love."

Rumpelstiltskin considered.

"Speak."

* * *

Story. What a word that was. A story was truth and emotion and dreams. A story was heartache. At least when Fárbauti wove it. Perhaps that was just all she knew. Hermione sat listening patiently, tears streaming down her cheeks. She had never wept quite so much, of that she was certain. It was audible, her breaking, and the breaking of the loss-struck mother she comforted. To think a queen's tears dampened her shoulder.

"They...were what...I loved...most," Fárbauti quavered. "I loved them too," Hermione informed her quietly, staring numbly at the floor. She lifted her head thoughtfully.

"You said he killed his father?"

"M-yes," Fárbauti swallowed thickly, her smile pushing through the tear tracks on her wet cheeks. "And Laufey would have killed you both if he knew the truth, right?"

"Yes," Fárbauti sighed. "It was for the best, Laufey's death. I just suppose I always envisioned myself doing it for us...It's not easy, being a mother."

"It's not easy being a friend," Hermione muttered, but Fárbauti seemed to catch on.

"No, it isn't."

Knocking that sounded far away and echoing intruded upon the grief-filled atmosphere in the room. Hermione was on her feet in an instant, wand drawn.

"What's the matter?" Fárbauti questioned, rising.

"We should be hidden. If Hogwarts allowed this, then something must be wrong."

She stalked towards the door and swung it open violently so that the person on the outside fell inward. Realizing who it was, Hermione bent to help her right herself. "Parvati? What's happened? Why-"

The other woman seized onto Hermione urgently. "A couple of strangers mysteriously appeared in the Great Hall." Hermione was nonplussed.

"Well, I fail to see why that concerns me personally-"

"They asked for you." Hermione froze. She turned her head. Fárbauti was staring wide-eyed. By Parvati's glance, the queen was visible.  
No words were spoken as they rushed through the corridors and flew down flights of stairs. They didn't see anyone until they reached the Grand Staircase. People were crowded around the doorway of the Great Hall, and those who had yet to get in littered the Entrance Hall in pockets. Whispers spread when Parvati reached the last step with Hermione. The crowd parted like the Red Sea, a clear path leading to the center of Great Hall. Hermione cautiously proceeded with Fárbauti. A hush fell. Two bedraggled figures stood in the center of the hall. One was tall and hooded, tell-tale ringed violet eyes peering out from the depths of the cloak hood. The second, shorter, more feminine figure leaned , her clothes ragged and stained, against the first heavily as if injured. And behind that person, two membranous wings trailed from her shoulder blades, milky white and dragging against the floor, as lackluster and bruised as the girl they were connected to. The appendages fluttered weakly, brushing against the stones.

The woman looked up. Hermione's heart stopped, meeting those ringed brown eyes, and Fárbauti emitted some strange sound, a convulsive sobbing-gasp-heave choke of breath to rival any. The eyes darted to her, widening slightly. She stumbled away from her companion and into Hermione, who caught her. The young woman, whose blonde hair was unimaginably filthy and tangled, spoke. Two words, to be precise.

"Hello, Aunt."

Before anything else could happen, her eyes rolled into the back of her head and she fainted straight away.

* * *

**_**Approximate Present, or The Past**_**

**ENGLAND, HERMIONE'S MIDGARD, YULETIDE 1991**

"Mom, we're home," Hermione called, unwinding her scarf from around her neck. Loki followed her through the door, closing it with a wave just before Jean stuck her head into the hallway. She smiled at them.

"Where's Rosalie? You didn't leave her by herself did you?"

"No, she's with Lo-Damien's sister," Hermione quickly amended, smiling.  
"You have a sister?" Jean asked excitedly, turning to Loki. "You'll have to bring her by."

She straightened, wiping her floury hands on her floral apron. She turned to retreat to the kitchen, but paused. "I thought you might want to know that your father's watching _The Mask again_."

Hermione groaned openly. Loki waited until the pad of Jean's feet could be heard a suitable distance away before he spoke. "Might I ask what _The Mask_ is?"

Hermione slowly closed her eyes and opened them again a moment later. Loki stared at her expectantly. "I can show you, but you're not going to like it, not at all."

"Why?"

"It's...complicated. And we _so do not_ need to watch it in the presence of my father."

Loki pulled her by the hand toward the back door. "We can always have another snowball fight."

* * *

_****The Future, Approximately, or The Present****_

**ASGARD**

As Loki sat broodingly through the council meeting, vaguely paying enough attention to give good council, he realized that it wouldn't be long before he and Naryu had would have to patiently smooth over any screw-ups their brother was sure to have been a party to, if not the entire cause. His mind wandered backward through a few years of Hermione's Midgard to a certain Ball he shouldn't have been at but went to anyway...he remembered her tears...

Loki paused in the shadows by the entrance to the Great Hall. He could hear Hermione's voice rising sharply, and by the sound of it, she was arguing with the twit she called Ron.

"...He's using you."

"How dare you! Besides, I can take care of myself."

Loki smirked. Indeed she could. "I doubt it," Ron retorted, "Besides, he's way too old-"

"What-?! What, that's what you think?"

"Yeah, that's what I think." Loki clenched his fist to keep from throwing a fireball at the dolt. He didn't have to react, however. "Well, you know the solution, then, don't you?" Hermione and the boy had emerged, Hermione striding angrily and Ron keeping pace.

"Go on," Ron encouraged.

"Next time there's a dance, hark up the courage and ask me before someone else does-" she heaved- "and not as a last resort."

"Well-that's all-that's completely off the point-Harry-?" Hermione whirled to see her other dull companion.

"Where have you been?" she spat, "_Never mind_, off to bed, both of you."

Wordlessly, and perhaps a bit fearfully, Harry scurried past her and began ascending the steps hurriedly, Ron following close behind.

"They get scary when they get older," Ron commented loudly. Loki saw the look that crossed her features. That happiness that had existed earlier had been supplanted by righteous fury, hurt, and indignation.

"Ron, you spoiled everything!" she screeched. The boys continued onward.

Hermione sat down hard, sobbing dejectedly on the steps and yanking her shoes off. Loki waited for a moment, watching her break a little. Then he stepped forward, sitting beside her and drawing her into his chest with an arm around her shoulders. She was trembling. He didn't want her to burn out or become what he felt he was late at night. He didn't want her to lose herself as much as he didn't want to lose her. Lifting her head, she peered at him through her tears.

"He really does ruin everything, you know," Hermione whispered, wiping her tears away rather forcefully. "I don't _want_ him, you see," she explained as he listened patiently. "I...have someone in mind...it's just that he _always_ does this. He's such a _brat_ about everything. He hurts Rosalie and he hurts me and he doesn't even realize...and don't get me started on how he's treated Harry..."

Loki didn't know what to say. He hated her mortals already, and she knew it. He knew anything he said about them would be deemed insensitive. Half of him wanted to bludgeon Ronald Weasley to death, but the other half knew it would only hurt Hermione. So instead, he hugged her closer and tighter, letting her cry through his shirt and soak his chest. "I've got you," he murmured, rubbing soothing circles into her back and planting a kiss on her forehead.

"You didn't leave," she sobbed. "Of course not," he murmured.

Loki shook his head. That had been a few years prior, but it was something he readily remembered. He frowned. Damn Fandral, he could drag meetings out until Ragnarock...the amulet hanging underneath his robes burned against his chest. He winced. He had to get out quickly. Hermione was in trouble, and nothing and no one was going to keep him from her. He had barely been excused before he was sweeping hurriedly through the doors. He heard someone come out behind him, following him, but he kept going.

"Loki, wait!" Naryu called. He slowed but continued onward. She caught up to him quickly, catching at his sleeve.

"Why do you hasten away so abruptly? What ails you?"

In answer, he yanked the chain above the collar of his shirt, allowing the amulet to swing into view. Naryu drew in a sharp breath. "Let me help, then. Let me come with you...she's my friend too."

"I had not planned on deterring you," he commented as they made their way across the courtyard.

"Good," she smiled, "everyone knows that the spell work of two is better than one."  
Heimdall had the pathway ready before they had even taken two steps into his domain.

"You're not the only one watching her," he informed them quietly, and then only to Naryu as Loki stepped through before her, " she's good for him."

"Agreed," Naryu complied, following her brother. The trip was brief and precise. She saw that they had landed in front of the gates of a large manor held her hands out to him.

"Shall we summon ourselves to her with that?"

"We shall."

With soundless Apparation and the amulet as their guide, Naryu and Loki transported to Hermione. They arrived in the middle of a situation. Hermione lay on the floor, Bellatrix Lestrange pinning her down as she finished carving the word _Mudblood_ into her arm. Hermione's yes met Loki's over her captor's shoulder. She had obviously just endured torture. Naryu snarled, and both her eyes and Loki's began clouding with red. Harry and Ron had burst in at almost the same time. A fireball appeared in Naryu's palm, and she used it to ward off Greyback. While the boys wrestled to keep the wands and keep the other gaunt prisoners protected, Loki ripped Bellatrix away from Hermione violently, gathering her close to him. Her eyes fluttered.

"You came," she breathed.

"Always," he whispered. Fire replaced the gentleness when his eyes again found the room. Bellatrix had recovered, verbally attacking a small creature with oversized eyes and ears.  
He and Naryu spun, arriving across the room just in time to throw up a wall of shields so that the people and goblin Hermione swiftly and quietly named as Dean Thomas, Garrick Ollivander, Luna Lovegood, and Griphook, respectively, along with her friends, and the house-elf Dobby, would be protected.

"Long time no see," he heard Naryu comment to the elf as if they were greeting each other on the street. He would ask her about that later. He saw Naryu grab onto the other group to help the elf, and take his free hand. There was a flash of silver, but they were free.  
A sandy beach rushed in on them. Bodies were collapsing on the sand, exhausted, and friendly voices greeted, but Loki paid no mind to them as he clasped Hermione's hand to heal her. Their connection fell into place.

"Naryu-" Loki called, interrupted by a sob not his own. His head snapped up, and Hermione rolled her head weakly to see as well.  
Naryu crouched with Dobby in her arms, the silver dagger that had pierced his chest in Luna's hand and the others crowding sadly around. Hermione whimpered in Loki's ear.

"We have...to save him."

"You cannot..."

"Together..." Hermione pleaded, looking into his eyes. "Please, Loki..."

He eased her down beside Naryu, and together, the three of them clasped hands and surrounded the dying creature.  
There was a sound, a music, as their magic mixed as one, and all those who heard it were entranced.

"Phoenix song..." someone whispered in disbelieving awe, "It sounds like Phoenix song," but all present seemed to hear. Dobby gave a little cough, weakly reopening his eyes.

"Dobby is tired..." he rasped. Luna gently moved the bloodied cloth covering the wound aside. It was gone.

"Why don't you sleep, Dobby," Hermione suggested weakly. "You'll be all right now." She leaned her head back to look at Loki. That amethyst was there, hidden in the green that stared back. "We're all going to be all right."

That said more than a "thank you" ever could, she thought.

* * *

**CALCUTTA, INDIA, THE OTHER MIDGARD**

The cloaked and hooded young woman pushed her way through the crowded streets, past the market place where swirls of the native tongue thrummed rapidly, past ragged children and beggars. She ducked between two stalls to get out of the path of a cart and collided with someone, throwing them both off balance. In the next second, she was looking down at a man that was young-looking but weary, older than her but still young, wearing a simple but nice and professional suit. He had nice brown eyes, she quickly decided, gentle eyes, and brown hair parted at the side. She saw that she had knocked his glasses off, and they lay a few feet away. Without thinking, she waved her hand, summoning them to her palm. Realizing too late what she had done, she quickly shoved them into his fingers and pushed herself off of him, running away in record time. She didn't stop hyperventilating until she was two neighborhoods and six streets away, nestled in the next district, albeit the same city. She had been on the run, hiding out far away from the reaches of her world-quite literally worlds, or dimensions, rather, away- while her sister completed her tasks with her two friends. She expected that the three had no idea she knew their true plans, or that she had instructions of her own. But she was **not** a coward, nor would she let her sister "protect" her.

Much later in the day, after temple meditation and observing the locals, she pushed a lock of reddish brown hair behind one ear and turned a corner only to see the man she had run into. He was being hassled by two men who spoke rapidly of some perceived failure of his. He was the picture of calm, modestly apologizing to them. Biting her lip, the young woman pushed forward, wand ready in her sleeve. She spoke.

"Leave this man alone."

Her accent was perfect, her grammar and wording precise. No hint of Great Britain tainted her voice. She allowed herself a small smidgen of pride. The men began firing rapid, angry words at her. She patiently talked them down until, mollified, they walked away, if bribed slightly, their pockets a bit fuller. She turned to the man.

"Are you all right?"

She thought she saw a flash of something peculiar in his eyes, but paid it no mind.

"I didn't catch your name earlier," he said in English. He had a pleasant, calm voice. His hands were in his pockets, but he withdrew one to offer it to her. The young woman eyed it warily as if it might possibly strangle her in the next second. "That's because I didn't throw it," she quipped, stepping back.

"I don't bite," the man said good-naturally, smiling sadly. "I really just want to apologize for earlier, and thank you for what you just did. You didn't have to do that." She fidgeted. How much had he seen or remembered from earlier? She licked her lips nervously. "Would you like to eat?" The question caught her off guard. She looked at him strangely. "Excuse me?" He shifted.

"That may have come across the wrong way. But, as I said before, I would really just like to make it up to you, and maybe repay you, and there's a nice deli down the street, if you're hungry, that is, Miss..."

This time, she smiled hesitantly at him, taking his hand, but she gave him her mother's maiden name and not her own. She was still cautious.

"Rosalie. Rosalie Puckle." He shook her hand slowly, smiling softly. "Doctor Bruce Banner. Pleased to meet you, Rosalie."

"If you buy me coffee, you can call me Rose."

* * *

"And this will allow me to acquire the heart and return it where it belongs?" Rosalie whispered, looking up at Rumpelstiltskin.

"Aye, dearie," he assured her. She smiled briefly at him. "I see what she saw in you," she whispered in awe.

"And who might that be?" he asked, staring at his nails.

"Belle." He glanced upward. Something imperceptible passed over his face.

"If you were lying about knowing something-anything-I'll cut your tongue out."

Rosalie merely continued to smile. "You _did_ love her."

He narrowed his eyes at her. "Belle had-has-a twin. Her name is Boa. She looks _exactly _like her, and she's even sweeter." Rosalie swallowed to continue, but the man before her interrupted her.

"Is that all?"

"No," Rosalie sighed. She startled them both when she grabbed his hand. "You listen to me well, Rumpelstiltskin. Bell wanted to return to you-she told me so when I saw her after you drove her away. I don't know what happened, but she loved her sister. Her sister is pregnant and she needs help." He pulled free of her grasp easily. "And why would I care about a mere pretty face? Boa...is not Belle."

"No, she's not. But when Belle left you, she left pregnant. And she left that baby with her sister. Rumpelstiltskin, that baby is yours."


	14. A Series of Unexpected Events

**The Remnant Prince **

* * *

**Ch. 13: A Series of Unexpected Events**

"Naryu!" Hermione exclaimed in relative alarm.  
"They were starved and beaten while they were imprisoned, and they may have been tortured-of that I know not."  
"Torture!" Fárbauti exclaimed.  
"They?" Hermione questioned sharply. "What they? And who are you? Why have you brought her?"  
"His name is Alosa, and he's an old friend of hers and an acquaintance of mine."  
The eyes of the hall turned toward the doorway where Rosalie stood. She threw the hood of her cloak back. Her left hand unconsciously went back to massaging her throat gingerly.  
"And how do you know him?" Hermione asked as Rosalie strode closer, inclining her head to Alosa in acknowledgement.  
"We met," she shrugged. She met Alosa's gaze. "The matter we discussed is resolved."  
Hermione opened her mouth again, but Fárbauti cut in quietly.  
"You have yet to answer her other questions. I suggest you do so now."

Alosa turned, drawing his hood off and bowing slightly. "Milady. I am Alosa, as stated before. I knew Naryu before she left our realm...torture, yes, though I think it wiser to discuss this elsewhere without idle ears, wandering eyes, and wagging tongues."

The Queen drew herself up regally out of habit due to the manner in which he addressed her. "Agreed," she nodded, "but first, my niece needs medical attention. If you'd follow us..."

She and Hermione took Naryu between them, using magic to ease her weight, levitating her on a summoned stretcher once the stairs had to be traversed. Alosa followed silently, looking around and pulling his cloak tighter about him. Hermione strained her ears to her what whispered conversation went on while Rosalie trailed behind a few steps with the mysterious arrival. She couldn't fathom Rosalie keeping secrets. She couldn't. Rosalie shared everything, hid nothing, was an open book...or so she thought, or had been led to believe.

Alosa was edgy. These other races and beings were alien to him, as well as helping them like Naryu would. He was not heartless. He simply thought that if something was a singular tragic incident, it was insignificant unless it involved himself or the Sylph.

He remembered the vision clearly, though. The visions of Naryu in Asgard's magnificent halls, older in each recollection of vision. He remembered when Hermione and Loki both had collided with her, and the first time he had glimpsed Rosalie. The four were perhaps four of the most important people in existence. They would keep a great darkness from consuming all, an evil with reaches into the crevices of dimensions and universes and all such in between and thereafter, one who reached from space. The Mad Titan. His heart had plummeted when he had seen the great hulking purple form approaching, standing in the doorway of that forsaken cell.

Alosa had seen his path in the stars. It was intertwined with the destinies of the other four. Their paths were blurry to him, but his was clear: he was to help them, even if it killed him. His only problem was whether to turn right or left. One direction led to a happy future. The other led to doom. He knew not which to take.

There was a crack, and a strange creature appeared.  
"Dobby!" Hermione and Rosalie exclaimed. Naryu stirred.  
"H-h-hello, Do-o-bby," she rasped.  
"Miss Naryu!" the house elf squeaked in dismay.  
"Dobby can get you there faster. Dobby can apparate in the castle!"  
He quickly grabbed onto them all as best he could, and with a crack they stood in the hospital wing. Madam Pomfrey, who had been rearranging the curtains, jumped away with a squeal, landing on her round, ample backside.  
"Oh!" she, "Merlin, what the devil do you think you're do-" she caught sight of Naryu's condition, paling instantly. She immediately went into her command mode. "Lay her there," she directed, scrambling upright. "That's the ticket. Careful of her...wings? Blimey, are those really wings growing out of her shoulders? Merlin, Morgana, and Hecate..."

Soon, Naryu lay on her side, her wings folded gently behind her. Fárbauti, Hermione, Rosalie, Dobby, and Alosa helped the mediwitch of Hogwarts as much as they could. The air was ripe with magic. Once Naryu was considerably improved, they all sat down for a conference, with Poppy being dismissed to bother Professor Snape for some potions and things he could procure and she could not. Naryu sat up slowly, wincing, with the aid of the others and cushions.  
"What happened?" Fárbauti asked kindly, placing her hand on her niece's knee.  
"First you need to know," she croaked once she had a sip of water. "Your son is alive, and is currently being held by a madman...Thanos, as they call him. And I think he's going to be used to subjugate life as we know it. And no one, Dashta, will be spared."  
Alosa looked up sharply. "You said he made a deal."  
Naryu took another sip of water. "I hardly think a beast like Thanos would keep such a bargain. I think no matter what Loki does, The Mad Titan will kill us anyway."

Rosalie and Alosa, who had sat down beside each other, cast a glance between them.  
"I think, Alosa, that it's time to make another deal," she murmured.  
"We gave nothing to offer," he muttered back.  
"We have something else he would want."  
"What might that be?" Alosa spat, "gold? He can make his own. Power? He has enough of that already. And you used your Belle ticket. What could you possibly have to offer the Dark One?"  
Rosalie stared down at her hands, brought her eyes up to her sister, who was asking frantic questions of Naryu as Fárbauti listened to the responses intently and Dobby made tea. No one was paying them any mind. She took the locket from around her neck, opening it to show a beautiful young woman with blue eyes and curly brown hair. A baby girl lay in her arms. She had green eyes and wisps of auburn hair, and a nose Rosalie recognized.  
"His daughter and granddaughters."  
The nose could have been Hermione's. The green eyes staring up at her could have been her own.

* * *

_****Approximate Present, or The Past****_

It was bitterly cold even inside the tent. Hermione shivered. The Forest of Dean had seemed like a good idea before she was freezing her arse off. Her mind was numb and she hated it. She was usually the cleverest in the room, unless her sister, Naryu, or Loki were with her. Then it was merely an evenly matched battle. She wondered who was cleverer, Professor Snape or her friends of Asgard.

She couldn't bring herself to hate him. She was much shrewder than the boys, and had deduced that somehow, Snape had had to kill Dumbledore, and somehow it had ultimately ruined Snape's life and proven his utmost loyalty simultaneously. She glanced at the flowers spread out on the tiny coffee table. She had been receiving them and hiding them from Harry. She knee who they were from, she was sure. Who else would leave her flowers preserved by frost, alien flowers whose beauty was unparalleled?

She stood from the bed, walked over to the small table as she stared down at them, reached out to touch them, but a voice by her ear stopped her hand as it hovered over them.  
"You shouldn't do that," it whispered quietly, "it warms them up, and when that happens, this bitter cold will kill them."  
She didn't need to turn to see who stood just behind her shoulder, his breath tickling her cheek and neck.  
"Better late than never," she said despondently.  
"Well, dear, you know how I love my chase."  
She felt his hand descend on her shoulder and squeeze it as if in reassurance. The other pulled her hair loose and moved it about, running long, dexterous fingers through the curls.

"You could make this so much easier," she said. His fingers brushed her shoulders and the collar of her shirt.  
"I know," he replied. He turned her. She looked up at last. Loki's eyes held a sad playfulness in their mess of dark mossy green in the lamp light. He stretched his hand out to touch her face, tracing patterns around her eyes, lips, and cheeks.  
"_My, my_," he whispered.  
"That's still not funny," she smiled reluctantly, eliciting a soft chuckle from him. She had been seeing him less and less, and she missed him terribly. Her heart ached. She knew by then that she more than loved him. She was foolishly in love with him and she knew it.

The peasant and the prince, she had thought, how cliché it sounded in her mind. She almost believed he was in love with her as well, almost. She thought she knew what that Amethyst meant...she couldn't help but stare at his lips as he caressed her cheek as if he would never see her again. He might very well not. She bit her lip.  
"Don't do that," he murmured.  
"Like you care," she muttered. His hand stilled. Her eyes met his and his hand dropped. She was afraid he might leave and disappear forever. Sometimes she knew she still gazed at him as if he shouldn't exist. He shouldn't, in the logical "gods don't exist" sort of way. Yet he did, and the pull on her wrist that set her into his arms for a dance was very real.

No music played, but they danced. She let him whirl her around at first before she began leading earthly, Midgard dances, from a waltz to a fox trot to a tango. She couldn't help it. She smiled, and soon she was laughing._Who's Ron?_ she jokingly asked herself. She hadn't been paying attention to her surroundings. The next thing she knew, she had tripped over something strewn across the tent floor and fallen back onto the bottom bunk bed, pulling Loki with her.

Both of them froze.  
"This is an interesting position," he commented slowly after a moment. Hermione's chest was still heaving while he remained the picture of cool, calm and collected.  
"Do you love me?" she asked suddenly.  
**~"It depends on what you're giving me,"** he whispered, eyes twinkling.  
"Prat," she muttered. "**~Don't be such a man."**  
"Excuse me?" he scoffed, offended.  
"My prat," she amended, laughing, and he smiled.  
"You don't know how very much I...love you."  
Hermione stared at him for a moment. "Prove it."  
He extended his fingers and slowly caressed the side of her face a moment before leaning in and pressing his lips to hers. Hermione's breath stopped, hitching in the next second as Loki crawled onto the bunk, their mouths molding and his hand falling to her neck. It had been so cold, but she was only getting warmer in that second, with precious hot pearls of kisses being pressed to her neck and face, to her collarbone, and her hands helped other hands tug fabric away. He always said she had a passion in her. Ever since Dumbledore's death, she wore the necklace around her neck that would not permit children. The fabric the blanket was made out of was scratchy on her back, but she didn't care. Not about that or the biting wind outside or that fact that Ron, a best friend for years, had abandoned she and Harry. But Ron had not been her first friend besides her sister. The man whose hands couldn't stop touching her had been. Ron hadn't always been there for her, but the person pressing her into the rickety bottom bunk had been. Ron had never understood her that way, laughed or cried or studied with her the way he needed to. And he wouldn't share her the way she was sharing then that frigid blizzard's day in the Forest of Dean.

He would have proved his love to her longer, harder, with more passion, enough to wipe away all of her tears, but at that moment, Naryu appeared in the tent.  
"Make haste," she hissed, and the reprieve dissolved and the two of the broke apart. It could have been a better time. But as Hermione sat dazed, shivering, and scrambling for her clothes in the cold, he stood.  
"The two humans of hers return," Naryu explained. "You must leave now."

She disappeared. Loki and Hermione locked eyes. Hermione bit her lip and looked away. When she glanced up, he was gone, and so were his clothes, for the most part. He had left his scarf behind. She leaned forward, picking it up and pressing it to her nose, inhaling. It smelled of him, the bottom bunk smelled of him. Harry would not be getting that bunk back. He would have to sleep in the top. She wound the scarf around her neck, staring at the tent flaps until Harry's shaggy black head poked through. She had forgotten Naryu had spoken of "humans". Ron had returned. The boys were dripping wet, but she couldn't rouse herself to care. Instead, she wrapped up in the blanket she bad just been on top of and faced the tent wall.

"Is she sick?" she heard Ron ask Harry.  
"I don't think so. Probably just asleep. She's been tired lately."

* * *

_****The Present, for the Most Part****_

**CALCUTTA, INDIA,**  
**THE OTHER MIDGARD**

"Well this is...quaint," Rosalie remarked as she glanced around the packed Deli.  
"Mmm," Bruce hummed.  
"Is that...is that _blood_?" Rosalie squeaked, clutching his arm and eyeing the questionable spot on the floor.  
"That wasn't there last week," he noted with a frown. He cleared his throat. "Would you like-"  
"-to go?" Rosalie interjected, "Please, let's."

They squeezed out of a side door and back onto the street. Bruce ran a hand through his hair, puffed his cheeks, and exhaled wearily.  
"Well, there goes my chance."  
"Not necessarily," Rosalie said quietly. She peered at him from underneath her eyelashes and bangs.  
"Can you keep a secret?"  
He stared at her wistfully for a moment.  
"Yes," he replied simply. Hesitantly, Rosalie said,"Then you lead me to where you're staying, and I'll fix us lunch."  
Bruce scrutinized her from over the top rim of his glasses. "All right."

He led her through the streets to a rundown building with a winding staircase inside. Children played on the steps and a woman passed bearing a water jug. An old, skinny dog yawned lazily from an open doorway. Rosalie saw it all as she followed the Doctor-who was, in fact, a _real_ Doctor- to his apartment. The building was poorly managed, but not as horrible as others they had passed on the way there.

Rosalind felt a twinge of extreme relief when they were safe behind closed doors. Banner walked to the window. Rosalie hovered by the door uncertainly. When Banner faced her, he had a slight, twisted, smile on his face.  
"So, how many are outside waiting?" he asked casually.  
"Outside...outside waiting where?" Rosalie queried confusedly. Bruce chuckled humorlessly.  
"Don't play dumb. I know they trained you and hired those men."  
"What are you rambling on about?" Rosalie pressed. Bruce exhaled forcefully. His hand shook as he raised it to run it through his hair again.  
"I know they sent you!" he quavered, his voice rising in volume and emotion.  
"Who? I don't know what the bloody hell you're talking about! Who the devil do you think sent me? I'm here alone, Bruce. I helped you on my own."

"Don't lie to me, damn it," he growled, forcing calm, "I know S.H.I E.L.D sent you."  
Bewildered, Rosalie proclaimed, "The flying fuck is S.H.I.E.L.D?"


	15. SHIELD

**The Remnant Prince**

**A/N: I went back and fixed errors I saw in the last chapter and in the previous chapter, as well making small revisions. I think that's all. If I missed anything, tell me! And besides that, I love hearing from y'all! So talk! :3**

**Thanks, all of you, including both members and guests such as the lovely Elizabeth who should make an account so we can chat more lol. :) Also, I may put a poll up concerning a pairing, the notification of which I will either put in the A/N of this chapter, in an additional A/N at the end or on the next chapter if it comes to that. **

***The Disclaimer Charm is still present and active, of course. But we now have Wrackspurts and pygmy-puffs. And a scarring card some sadist made featuring a picture of Ron, shirtless, with Pidgwidgeon and cupid and a high Sponge-Bob on his chest...yeah, that wretching sound is basically what I said. **

**Enjoy! (The fic/fic chapter, not that bilk with Ronald)**

**PS, there is a glitch with my something or other that deletes some spacing between paragrapsh I put, and for some reason I have no indents. Thought I should mention that. It also sometimes removes my dividers/horizontal bar in a truly random manner. Maybe something in the universe just hates me. :'(**

* * *

_Act 3 ~ Second Stars to the Right_

_XXXXXX_

_The relevance of the following depends on the reader:_

_~"The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, / But in ourselves, that we are underlings.'"_

_~"No one can make you feel inferior without your consent."_

_-Eleanor Roosevelt_

_~"There is no good or evil: only power, and those too weak to seek it."_

_Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone, spoken by Quirinus Quirrell_

_~"The future belongs to those who believe in the beauty of their dreams."_

_-Eleanor Roosevelt_

_"Never be bullied into silence. Never allow yourself to be made the vicitim. Accept no one's definition of your life; define yourself."_

_-Harvey Fierstein_

* * *

**Ch. 14: S.H.I.E.L.D.**

"My God," Bruce muttered, somewhat awed and all the while studying Rosalie's face. "You really don't know."

"Oh, have you gotten the memo now?" she snapped, crossing her arms.

"I-," Bruce stopped himself, staring at her apologetically, "I apologize. That was no way for me to speak to you, especially after what you've done for me, Miss Puckle."

"Rose," she said tiredly, dropping her arms from her chest and swaying uncertainly in place. Her hand rose in a gesture from old habit, holding one arm by the elbow.

"No coffee first?" Bruce asked, the edges of his lips just tipping up. Rosalie couldn't help but return the expression. It was an edgy smile that people who didn't know quite what to make of each other or their situation offered. Rosalie scoffed.

"Screw that, we're past the coffee point, and we've probably scared half of the hall."

Bruce chuckled good-naturally. "Probably."

They stood in silence for a moment, looking around the apartment and anywhere but each other. Finally, Rosalie cleared her throat. "Tea?"

The sudden question made Bruce startle.

"It wouldn't be out of place."

He indicated the general direction of the kitchen, and Rosalie went in. It was cleaner than the rest of the apartment, and the apartment itself was tidier than the rest of the building. She could tell despite his apartment being the only one she visited. She looked through all of the shelves, found a kettle, put the water on to boil. She rummaged around in the cabinets, found bread and what she thought was jam. She cooked whatever looked like it might go together well enough, but stopped short just before the kettle whistled. In all the time she had been working- shooting magic to speed the cooking but never allowing it to get out of hand enough for Bruce to notice-she had not found even one tea leaf, one bag of tea. She searched frantically, only pausing to turn the stove off before the kettle made a mess or the food burned.

Glancing over her shoulder to make sure she wouldn't be caught, she pulled her bag out of her pocket and stuck her arm in up to her shoulder, fishing around inside for her own tea. She had an Undetectable Enlargement Charm on both the pocket and the bag, and the other things inside slid around. There was a small crashing noise that made her jump.

She summoned the unmade tea, her hand closed around the container, and she yanked it free, quickly making tea and hiding the evidence. Rosalie served both of them on two chipped plates. She called Bruce in for his food and tried to look natural.

His eyes went to the steaming tea and the food that probably should have taken longer, Rosalie realized too late. She hurriedly set about making the small, rickety table while Bruce tried to (discretely, Rosalie was sure) examine the stove. She tried to ignore his gaze shifting to the two steaming jam jars of tea she had just fixed.

"Where'd you get those?" he asked shortly.

"Get what?" she asked as she half-turned to move the jars to the table.

"That tea. I didn't have any," he asserted, his tone sure.

"Yes you did," Rosalie lied, "way in the back and hidden. You just must not have noticed."

"No, Rosalie."

Rosalie gripped onto the edge of the sink, attempting to steady herself before she turned to face him.

"Rosalie."

He was behind her, a gentle hand on her shoulder.

"You don't have to lie to me. I think I know a wi-"

"Who or what is S.H.I.E.L.D?" she asked abruptly.

"Rosalie, it's ok-"

"Just square with me!" she exclaimed, shrugging his hand off and spinning to face him.

"I'll be more willing to answer your irritating little prods if you tell me the truth, Bruce."

Bruce stood still, regarding her with a mix of expressions and emotions.

"How can I trust you with my secrets?" he whispered.

"How can I trust you with mine?" she retorted, eyes lifted upward to stare into his. It turned into a staring contest. Finally, Bruce stepped back ruefully, pinching the bridge of his nose, and said, "Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division."

Rosalie opened and closed her mouth a few times.

"What?" she finally responded.

"S.H.I.E.L.D. is an espionage and law-enforcement agency that enforces peace in the world and makes sure that the Earth and the human race are in no immediate danger. Nick Fury is the director of S.H.I.E.L.D. He ensures that everything happening in the world is under control. S.H.I.E.L.D. monitors any potential threats to the world to make sure they don't become threatening to the human race."

"So it's to maintain world peace?" Rosalie asked skeptically. Bruce flinched.

"Something like that, I suppose, but it does more, believe me."

Rosalie slid past Bruce to sit down at the table. She gestured for him to copy her actions.

"So I suppose you think you saw something this morning?" she inquired, crossing her arms again. He leaned forward in his seat, elbows on the table.

"I know I did."

"Then I guess there's no pretending," Rosalie noted, pulling out her wand. With a few quick, precise gestures, she had them warded. No one could find them, trace them, plot them, listen in on their conversation or break through without warning. Hermione wasn't the only one skilled at Charms.

"Now that that's taken care of," she sighed, leaning back in her chair. Bruce was observing her curiously.

"May I?" he asked, nodding his head at her wand. She hesitantly brought it onto the table, but held onto it as his fingers traced over it.

"I could have just Obliviated you and skedaddled. I really should have."

"Then why didn't you?" Bruce pressed. Rosalie looked up at him.

"Because I know how to recognize a desperate soul," Rosalie replied, "and you are as desperate as I am-more so, I'd say. I know what a fugitive looks like, and what it is to be one. And I know we of the same cloth should stick together...or at the very least keep mum about each other's secrets. So tell me, Doctor, why this S.H.I.E.L.D. wants you."

Bruce seemed to consider. "A Square Deal, I suppose," he mused. "It's only fair you know what you're dealing with. It's safe to say you're a witch-" here Rosalie inclined her head- "and I am a man of science."

"A man of science?" Rosalie repeated, "And I am a hacker, just so you know. What does Big Brother want with a scientist, Doctor? You don't look like a madman in a box."

Bruce smiled humorlessly and chuckled.

"They won't leave that madman alone if he has the...ah... anger issues this particular one does."

"Anger issues?"

"Hulk issues."

Bruce seemed to have been under the impression that those words alone would have made her understand. When she didn't respond after a minute or so, he said, "You're not from here, are you?"

Rosalie leaned forward, whispering, "Well whatever gave you that impression?"

She withdrew the bag again, the contents sliding around like an upended storage shed. Bruce's eyebrows rose at the sound of crashing and clanking, and scrunched in wonder when Rosalie stuck her entire arm in, withdrew it, muttered a curse, and summoned a silver box covered with runes from the depths.

"I think I could get used to magic," he murmured, eyeing the box as Rosalie hung her bag on her chair.

"Could you?" she murmured, opening the box and removing a silver basin traced with more runes.

"I had to find the cabinet, sorry..."

"You have a cabinet inside that?"

Rosalie glanced up at him. "This in front of you is a Pensieve. It lets me view memories. If you can't tell me exactly what I need to know, you can show me."

Bruce seemed to consider. "Will I get to see yours?"

Rosalie laughed. "Goodness no. You knowing about my world is gold enough, enough to get you killed, Outsider. But being a witch is simple. You're just being downright confusing."

Bruce leaned forward. "You're the one who doesn't know what a bloody Hulk is."

* * *

Rosalie had left her world as soon as she was of age. The locket Boa had given her worked like a key. There had been a Time Compass in Alfheim, she knew, but what her "grandmother" had given her had been a dimensional key of some sorts. The Compass was for time travel and crossing time lines. The Time Gears inside of them were their heart, though. The locket was for dimensions, realms, space, universes...and she used it.

She hadn't, of course, known about all of the magical properties of it. It was like a portal cube, magic bean, or the Mad Hatter's Hat, but did not require a flat surface or restrict the number of travelers or make a mess.

She fingered it idly then as she let Alosa absorb the new information concerning her lineage. She had chosen the other Midgard, a land unused to magic, for magic seldom crossed over. It had other things instead, super-powered individuals, was a place where science itself was magic. She had found Bruce not soon after. She smiled faintly, her face hidden by a curtain of hair. In that year, she found that she had grown attached to him. She had been as fascinated as she had been compassionate, not wanting to leave him alone. After she had viewed his memories, a shaky trust had been formed, an alliance of sorts thought to be temporary. But as she stayed by his side, brewing potions for him as well as for the needy people surrounding them, healing alongside his use of medicine, they had become dear friends and companions.

He had explained to her how, just before she had shown up, he had tried to kill himself, but the Other Guy had kept him from his death. She remembered her reaction with a wry smile. It had been one of complete and total shock, accompanied by her exclaiming_**, ~"Could you please explain to me why in the hell you'd want to kill yourself?"**_

No matter what her mission, she had always returned to him. She planned to do so again in the evening, but first, there was a task she had to attend to. She had to tell Rumpelstiltskin and Hermione of their relation.

It was strange, calling him out of his time to set in motion events that would make them who they were. She had a Time Compass, too, and so did he. Not the one from Alfheim, of course. That had been stolen years ago. The one she had had been stolen from the Department of Mysteries in her fifth year. She was not sure where he had acquired his. But in his helping Boa, Rumpelstiltskin would send them to the world they were born into. He had saved her life, and once she was safe, she had used the key. She had been warned of the impending doom consisting of the Dark Curse. Rosalie was not sure how Boa had acquired the key. But by the stealing away of Boa, her child, and Belle's, the ball had started rolling.

Rosalie sat up and cleared her throat.

"Hermione, could you take a walk with me?"

Her sister paused mid-sentence. Naryu's eyes focused on Rosalie, who shifted uncomfortably. Fárbauti switched to looking at her as well, and Dobby's round eyes observed her worriedly as he sat the tea tray down.

To her credit, Hermione didn't poke or prod. She simply nodded, stood up, and began making her way towards the doors.

"My apologies," Rosalie mumbled awkwardly to their remaining companions, hurrying after Hermione. As the door closed behind her with a swish, she heard Fárbauti's voice start up softly once more, gently questioning Naryu, and Dobby's high-pitched vocals interrupting.

Hermione was waiting by a Portrait of Mildred the Muddled. Wordlessly, Rosalie led her through the castle and out onto the grounds. People had dispersed, but when they ran across them, they received the odd curious glance and whispers. It was drizzling slightly outside when they emerged, but soon they reached the cover of the trees. A quiet enveloped them underneath the dark branches. The crunch of their boots on pine needles and leaves broke through the silence.

"Here," Rosalie spoke, breaking the silence and coming to a stop in the meadow she had been in earlier. She set the Time Compass and touched the spell book within her cloak pocket. Boa had been given one of Rumpelstiltskin's spell books before she left, being a magic user and pupil for a time herself, and instructions and a summons were in the very back.

"Rumpelstiltskin," she said clearly, "Rumpel-"

"Really, dearie, this is getting tiring. How many times must we go through this?"

Rosalie said nothing.

"Oh, but this time you brought a friend."

He lunged forward to inspect Hermione.

"How do you do, dearie? You look familiar..."

Rosalie stepped between them. "How's your family?"

Rumpelstiltskin's impish smirk fell.

"My daughter is none of your concern."

"To the contrary," Rosalie countered, "Your daughter is who we owe our lives too, our past, present, and future."

"How's that, dearie?" the Dark One asked, stepping back. Rosalie reached up to undo the clasp of the locket. "See for yourself."

She dangled the locket from her fingertips. He reached forward, almost snatching it. He opened it. Rosalie waited as his eyes took in the contents. She knew what he would see-Belle, holding her mother.

"Boa told me how you saved her life and about the Dark Curse. She told me about how you took her in and warned her. She told me about Belle. She said-"

Hermione cut in frantically. "You can't mess with time like this!"

"Hermione, don't you see_! We already have!_ That's how we're here! That's how we were born! He had to know to save Boa, he had to give her his spell book, he had to take her in and warn her about the Dark Curse and see his children!"

Rosalie had stepped away from Hermione. She now stood in a triangle with her sister and her grandfather.

"How do you know about that?"

The girls stopped their bickering long enough to turn and stare at the man.

"How do you know about the Curse or the spell book?"

"Boa told me," Rosalie replied.

"Nana?" Hermione said questioningly.

"Belle was her sister. And this-" she looked to Rumpelstiltskin- "this is our grandfather, Rumpelstiltskin, the Dark One."

Hermione paled. Her mouth worked, her jaw clenched, and her eyes narrowed.

"I've read of him."

* * *

Stony silence marked the walk back to the infirmary. It had gotten colder, and their breath gathered around their heads. The rain had stopped. As soon as they walked through the doorway, Hermione was pulled aside by Severus Snape and McGonagall to explain exactly what the situation was. Rosalie waved them off and went to sit by Naryu. She and Alosa had been in deep conversation, her eyes glimmering suspiciously. They grew quiet when Rosalie approached.

"How are you feeling?" Rosalie asked. Naryu smiled at her.

"Like I got the shit beat out of me in a hellish dungeon alongside my brother, who is yet imprisoned. Wait a moment-I did."

"Oh, Naryu," Rosalie snorted, reaching out to squeeze her old friend's hand. Naryu stiffened at the contact, her eyes going glassy.

"The Doctor-Banner- Bruce Banner...you must get to him-immediately!"

Naryu's behavior frightened Rosalie.

"Why? What do you see? Tell me what you see!"

"Just go!" Naryu screamed. "It's all a blur...go! Something is going to happen! Go to him!"

Rosalie didn't need telling twice. She sprinted from the room and didn't pause, even with Professors McGonagall and Snape, along with her sister, calling out for her. She didn't even spare a thought as to where Fárbauti might have vanished. Instead, she focused on her heart beating to the pounding of her feet on the old stones. Gripping the locket, she flung herself over the boundary line of Hogwarts and disapparated.

* * *

The sounds and smells of Calcutta collided with her senses. Rosalie stumbled into the alley wall, barely pausing to regain her footing. She cast a charm on herself to not be noticed, and then she ran down the block to the apartment building. The steps flew by under her feet nearly three at a time. She cast her wards aside and burst into the room.

Bruce leapt up from the sofa, his paper fluttering to the floor. He crossed the room in three strides.

"Rosalie, wha-"

Rosalie flung her arms around him and buried her face into his neck.

"Naryu-she's a friend-she said she had some kind of vision and that you needed me."

Bruce said nothing in response. His arms tightened and he kissed her hair, reaching behind her to close the door .

"I'm fine. Just swamped with an outbreak of malaria. It happened right after you left."

He gently disentangled her and held her at arm's length. "Hey, are you all right?"

Rosalie swallowed heavily. "Yeah, I just...I have to stay by you at all times now. All times, do you hear me, Doctor Banner?"

Bruce met her frantic gaze worriedly.

"All right, Rosalie, we'll stay together."

There was a pounding on the door, fast, heavy, and persistent.

"Doctor? Healer?" an unsure voice called from the other side of the door in Hindi, then in English, "Please, my daughters. Help my daughters."

Immediately, Bruce and Rosalie were apart, their bags and supplies flying into their hands. Bruce opened the door to find a frantic looking man who thrust a small crate of produce at them. Rosalie leaned around Bruce to take it, and as he stepped out of the door, shielding her from view, she banished the crate to the kitchen area and sent a stasis charm after it.

Bruce was waiting patiently on the landing when she emerged, listening in all seriousness to the fidgety man chatter in Hindi about the high fevers both of his children had. The lock and wards set automatically as soon as the door swung shut. The man set off at once down the stairs. Rosalie and Bruce followed him closely. The man in front of them was in such a hurry that he nearly stepped on an older woman kneeling to bring her cat in for the evening. He muttered hurried apologies scurrying along the street to his house.

The stairs threw up dust and dirt, and the man almost broke his own door down getting inside his one room apartment. The woman inside- the mother, obviously-was hovering between two beds where two little girls lay. Her head snapped up, her eyes locking on Rosalie and Bruce. Rosalie could see the instant relief that swept over her features. She began rattling off in rapid, fervent Hindi. Rosalie and Bruce set down their bags, cleaned their hands, and checked over their prospective patients. Rosalie knew it was mainly a Muggle illness, carefully observing the effect the potion had on the small children in addition to the Muggle medicine Bruce dispensed. She could feel eyes boring into her as her hands worked alongside his. She knew that even though the people they helped had no idea she was a witch, they knew she was different, even from Bruce, and they depended on his sure medical knowledge as much as her supposed healing touch. She heard the beginnings of a protest on the mother's lips as she tipped a potion to the lips of the child she tended, but she assured her and continued regardless.

Rosalie and Bruce relaxed at last, cleaning their hands. The mother once again hovered between the two beds, but was considerably calmer. Rosalie thought the woman might actually have been preparing to smile at them weakly in appreciation when a commotion on the stairs caught their attention and a little dark head and shoulders appeared, then an entire tiny frame; a young girl crouched by the railing.

"Who are you? Get out! There is sickness here!" she-the mother- hissed in Hindi. The little girl replied quickly, pleading and arguing with her. Rosalie half-turned toward the ranting woman, hand held in a gesture for peace, mollifying the furious mother while Bruce tried to calm the child long enough for her high, clear pleading to be clarified. When she spoke, it was a rushed string of Hindi.

"My father's not waking up! He has a fever and he's moaning but his eyes won't open."

"Slow down," Rosalie heard Bruce say, extending a hand and exuding calm professionalism, "Tell me what's wrong."

Rosalie eyed the child, who seemed anxious.

"Miri baba," she whimpered, voice choked with emotion.

"Like them?" Rosalie asked, gesturing at the beds as the mother of the other children glowered broodingly. The little girl seemed uncertain about answering Rosalie, and glanced at Bruce, however. He posed the question a second time, and she nodded, tearing up and proffering a fistful of wadded up money.

"Please," she begged. Bruce stood and helped Rosalie rise.

"I'll come with you," she told him, "they'll be fine. I'll leave some herbs in case their fevers persist. We've done all that we can, you and I."

Nodding in agreement, they told the mother how to care for the children and that they would return later unless there was an emergency that called them back sooner. The mother complied, by then much more at ease. The barefoot child took off down the stairs. Bruce and Rosalie jogged to keep up, ducking around people and pets once they reached the streets. Night had fallen. The child kept going, traveling further and further away from the bustle of the city and more towards the outskirts of town. Bruce and Rosalie held her back as a jeep passed, the girl having almost run directly in front of it. There was an old man, along with a young boy, another man, and their goats outside of a lone shack, sitting on crates around a television.

The girl disappeared inside. Rags hung around the entrance. Bruce and Rosalie entered without pause, Rosalie in front, just in time to see her disappear through a hole-presumably a makeshift window-just big enough for her lithe little body, the cloth hanging over it swishing back into place.

"Should've got paid up front, Banner," Bruce huffed to himself. Rosalie opened her mouth to reply when another feminine voice spoke.

"You know, for a man who's supposed to be avoiding stress, you sure picked a hell of a place to settle."

A woman with auburn hair emerged from the shadows. Rosalie bristled. Bruce turned calmly towards her.

"Avoiding stress isn't the secret," he replied simply. Rosalie snorted, and the woman's eyes honed in on her. She said nothing, merely continued to speak to Banner.

"Then what is it-Yoga?"

Her eyes shot back to Rosalie. "Or maybe companionship? I never pictured you with an apprentice, Doctor."

"You brought us to the edge of the city-smart," Bruce commented, ignoring the question and pacing away with his hands clasped. Rosalie followed in his footsteps. He peered out through a rickety screen into the night. "I-ah assume the whole place is surrounded?"

Rosalie moved to keep the entire room in view, observing the strange woman observe Bruce.

"Just you and me," the woman affirmed. She glanced again at Rosalie. "Well, perhaps you, me, and your associate is more accurate," she added. Rosalie remained stonily silent, staring warily at the auburn-haired stranger in a skirt. If the woman watched for a reaction, she received none that was markedly different than what she had been receiving. Bruce broke in, directing attention back on himself.

"And your actress buddy, is she a spy, too? They start that young?"

"I did," the woman replied, shifting her gaze back onto him.

"Who are you?" Rosalie cut in sharply, speaking at last.

"Natasha Romanoff," the woman replied, meeting Rosalie's harsh stare as the witch moved closer to Bruce once more. Bruce shifted, looked down at his feet, hit his hands together.

"Are you here to kill me, Miss Romanoff, or her, because that's not going to work out for everyone."

He smiled grimly. Rosalie chuckled humorlessly.

"No, no, of course not," Natasha replied quickly, "I'm here on behalf of S.H.I.E.L.D."

Rosalie stiffened. An expression Rosalie couldn't identify crossed the Doctor's features.

"S.H.I.E.L.D," Bruce and Rosalie repeated simultaneously, sharing a glance.

"How did you find him?" Rosalie inquired neutrally, becoming as calm as Bruce.

"I would like to know that as well," Bruce added, touching his fingers together.

"We never lost you, Doctor Banner. You entered a gray area just prior to when you began appearing in public with Miss Congeniality, so we assume that was her doing, but we knew how to find you, as you can see. We kept our distance, even kept some other interested parties off your scent."

"Not for common courtesy, though," Rosalie interrupted, stepping forward and gesturing outward with her hand as she spoke, "to protect your own interests. You didn't want the other kids on the block playing with you toy."

"Why?" Bruce asked Natasha, soothing Rosalie with a glance and pulling her back toward him by her elbow.

"Nick Fury seems to trust you, but now we need you to come in."

"Come in?" Rosalie queried. "He's not a dog out in your yard."

"Rosalie," Bruce warned. He kept eye contact with Natasha. "What if I say no?"

"I'll persuade you," Natasha replied smoothly.

"Like hell," Rosalie interjected, thrusting her chin upward and flexing her fingers in preparation for grabbing him and apparating away or fighting with magic. Natasha parted her lips to respond when Bruce spoke.

"And what if the...Other Guy says_ 'no'_?"

"You've been more than a year without an incident. I don't think you want to break that streak."

She turned, taking a few steps and regarding him over her shoulder.

"Well, I don't every time get what I want," Bruce said quietly, pushing a swing hanging inside. Rosalie put her hand on his arm.

"Doctor, we're facing a potential global catastrophe," Natasha said, pulling forth a cellular phone and tapping the screen. Bruce looked up, pushing at the inside of his mouth with his tongue. He almost-laughed darkly.

"Oh, those I actively try to avoid," he joked humorlessly. Natasha turned, flashing the screen. She laid it on a table and slid it across. Bruce approached, pulling his glasses out.

"This is the Tesseract. It has the potential energy to wipe out the planet."

He reached for the phone as he put his glasses on and pushed them up his nose, but Rosalie waved her hand impatiently, causing it to zoom into her palm. She moved so Bruce could see it over her shoulder. She cut her eyes up at Natasha, who sat at the table silently, as if daring her to say something. She seemed like she might, her eyes wary and her lips stretched into a tight line, but continued smoothly, hands on the tabletop.

"What does Fury want me to do, swallow it?" Bruce asked, looking up.

"He wants you to find it. It's been taken. It emits a gamma signature that's too weak for us to trace. No one knows gamma radiation like you do. If there was, that's where I'd be."

She sat back, waiting. Bruce removed his glasses.

"So Fury isn't after the monster?"

"Bruce," Rosalie protested sternly.

"Not that he's told me."

"And he tells you everything?" Rosalie asked half-scornfully and half skeptically.

"Talk to Fury, he needs you on this," Natasha said, sitting up.

"And why should we cater to his needs or whim?" Rosalie questioned, again scornful.

"Is someone going to put me in a cage?" Bruce questioned quietly.

"No one's going to put you in a cage," Natasha assured him.

"STOP LYING TO ME!" Bruce thundered suddenly, slamming his hands down on the table. Rosalie's stomach and heart leapt. Natasha reached underneath the table and Rosalie instinctively whipped her wand out, almost at the exact same time the gun appeared in Natasha's hands. They stared at each other, each in their habitual defensive stances. Natasha eyed Rosalie with interest. Bruce straightened.

"I'm sorry," he said meekly," that was mean."

He put his hands together, " I just wanted to see what you'd do."

Natasha's head was still lifted, her eyes glassy. Calmly, Bruce said, "Why don't we...do this the easy way where you don't use that, my friend stands down and the Other Guy doesn't make a mess? Okay, Natasha?"

Natasha seemed terrified, a live, edgy, wire. Two beats passed before she slowly lowered her gun.

"Rosalie," Bruce said firmly. Rosalie lowered her wand arm. Natasha unfroze, put her hand to her ear, turning her head to the side.

"Stand down," she ordered. "We're good here."

"Just you, me, and my associate?" Bruce said sarcastically. Natasha, eyes wide, merely stared.

"No more balderdash," Rosalie snapped. "You've already violated your non-existent trust relation. We need to confer."

Rosalie waved her hand in a seemingly innocent gesture, and silence fell around her and Bruce. She smirked: Natasha was touching her ear, a nonplussed expression on her countenance. It left and her eyebrows scrunched in understanding.

"You shouldn't do that in the presence of sharks," Bruce chided, "they can smell blood a mile away."

Rosalie shrugged. "They can kiss my arse. It amuses me to no end how confused and befuddled they get. I know what I said, but I think I know some relevant things that may help. The situation isn't what they think if I'm right. I'm sorry Bruce. I don't want them to use you, but I don't want you to lose the world you break your neck and bleed to save with every breath you take."

Bruce stared down at Rosalie momentarily, then pushed her hair back behind her ear.

"They might try to separate us," he warned.

"Let them try," Rosalie retorted, "Besides, they need you, so they need me. And besides that, they need me themselves if what I said before holds any merit."

"Then we better get packed."

"I'm always packed," Rosalie replied, jingling her pockets so that there was a small, far off cacophony of screeching and sliding objects. Bruce's lips curled up in a grin.

"Guess I'm the only one unprepared then, huh?"

"Guess so."

She stared at him, then dissolved her wards. Natasha was watching them again. Bruce nodded once.

"It's a go-but we're both coming."

"Agreed," Natasha complied to their surprise, but the situation became clear in the next second.

"Director Fury wants to meet your associate. He said he's never gotten to shake hands with a magic-wielder."

"He wants me because of the Asgardian threat you have, right? He probably stole your oversized glowing Lego."

Natasha's mouth tightened.

"Don't speak of what you don't know about," she said flatly.

"Then enlighten me," Rosalie said in an equally flat tone, "Is this about Loki Odinson and invasion or not?"

Natasha blinked.

"Lovely," Rosalie spat. "And when were you going to come clean? You wonder why Bruce doesn't trust you, why no one does? Because you don't give them any damn reason to."

Natasha lifted her chin, quiet and calculating. Rosalie didn't like the looks of her. She seemed too much like a snake waiting to strike.

"Are you from Asgard?" Natasha asked casually-although there was really nothing casual about her stance. Rosalie scoffed.

"Ignorant Muggle. News flash: the so called "world" you live in is bigger than your city block."

"Rosalie," Bruce warned. Deep down, Rosalie knew she was being baited, but it didn't seem to matter.

"Then there are other places? How many? What-"

"Don't play daft," Rosalie snapped, "If your lot knows about what happened in New Mexico and about Thor and Loki, then you know there's a city outside of the ballpark."

Natasha narrowed her eyes and Bruce relaxed slightly, his shoulders loosening at the non-revealing answer. Natasha touched her ear again. She glanced at Bruce.

"Your things have been collected, Doctor. We're leaving."

"What about these people?" Bruce asked suddenly, worry creasing his brow.

"Situation contained," Natasha promptly replied. "We did consider what extracting you would mean."

"Pfft, what are we?" Rosalie scoffed, "teeth?"

* * *

_****Approximate Present, or The Past****_

**DEPARTMENT OF MYSTERIES, MINISTRY OF MAGIC HEADQUARTERS IN LOMDON, ENGLAND, 1995**

They were all three frankly surprised to see each other in the Time Chamber. They had all entered through different doors, eyes on the rack of Time Turners and other paraphernalia. Rosalie was the first to speak.

"Look-we all want the same thing," she said.

"Do we?" Loki asked coolly. "Do you dare to fathom my reasoning, mortal?"

"Cut the bullshit, Loki. We're all tired and we've known each other since we were little kids. So shut up and start grabbing. We'll take half or most of the rack and make fakes to leave with the rest. They'll probably be damaged or destroyed with these imbeciles falling around like damn heavy-footed giants."

That silenced Loki. Naryu smiled dreamily.

"That's why we came. They were supposed to be broken."

Loki cleared his throat. "I came for Hermione's."

Rosalie scoffed. "Well that's just tough kittenshit, isn't it, because I planned to take hers myself-for a rainy day, mind you."

"A rainy day?" Loki spat, "In case you didn't notice, Rosalie, it's all ready pouring down like a bitch."

"We shouldn't fight," Naryu hissed sternly.

"We should just get what we came for and get out before they get here. We have five minutes."

They worked in silence, pocketing and hiding their portions. When they came to the two Time Compasses and separate Time Gears, all three looked at each other. Rosalie reached out and took one of each quietly.

"I'll share this with Hermione if you two share those."

Loki's Adam's apple bobbed. He licked his lips greedily and Naryu's fingers twitched. "Agreed," they said at once.

At that moment the amulet around Loki's neck burned bright and hot, and, Harry, Neville, and Hermione skidded in, pursued by two Death Eaters. Rosalie waved her wand like she was cracking a whip, sealing the chamber. The Death Eaters were momentarily distracted, and Harry managed to stun one. Loki ground his teeth as the twit, Neville, accidentally disarmed them both and Harry. The other Death Eater aimed at Hermione.

"Avada Ke-" ended abruptly as the "twit" disarmed the man. Harry then tackled him. Rosalie summoned his and his companion's wand to her hand.

"Nice one, Neville."

"Thanks," he smiled sheepishly. Loki rolled his eyes.

"It was a fluke," he said nastily.

"Who're you?" Harry asked, standing and retrieving his wand.

"Loki? Naryu? Rosalie?" Hermione exclaimed, jogging to them. The Death Eater Harry had tackled was knocked into a bell jar that made his head turn into that of a baby, and then back into an adult, continuously aging and de-aging.

"Come on!" Rosalie hissed. The three thieves and the other three sprinted an office off of the Time Chamber. Naryu, Loki, and Hermione threw up shields to protect their group on instinct, narrowly avoiding the barrage of Impediment Jinxes by Death Eaters that would have disabled them all.

Hermione silenced Dolohov to prevent him from alerting the other Death Eaters as to their location, and Harry placed Jugson in a Full Body-Bind Curse. She was doing so well that Loki took his eyes off of her only for a moment, or so he thought.

"Hermione!" Rosalie screamed. Harry echoed her call. Loki's head snapped back. Hermione lay crumpled. He rushed forward, pushing Neville out of the way to gather her into his arms. He smelled blood, could see it pooling across her chest, bubbling from a horrible cursed, poisoned wound. The bastard had used cursed poisoned lashes on Hermione. Suddenly that red was all Loki could see. Before he knew what he was doing, he had summoned a fireball in one hand and had flung it at Dolohov in the very next instant. It was bluish fire that caught instantly at the man's flesh. He screamed and fell writhing to the floor, where the cursed flames bit at his flesh angrily.

"Loki!" Naryu exclaimed, horrified. Rosalie's eyes were wide in appalled disbelief. Neville appeared terrified as he clutched his wand. He seemed to want to help Hermione, but one look at the almost black eyes of Loki and the expressions of wrath swimming across the Asgardian's countenance dissuaded him. Loki glared around at everyone, daring them to try and remove her from his grasp.

"We've got to find the others," Harry urged at last. Rosalie only spared him a single glance. She dropped down by Loki, touching Hermione's cheek.

"I'm staying with them. You go."

Naryu stepped forward. "I have to stay with them. Someone will die if I don't."

"Then go, damn it," Loki snarled, his hands hovering over Hermione's wound, already drenched with blood. Their feet skidded across the floor and their footsteps faded away as they entered another room. Rosalie offered her hands.

"I love her too, Loki, and my magic is the next best thing."

Rosalie didn't flinch as his bloody fingers wove with hers and pressed against Hermione's wound. It was strange. The meld felt different, foreign, and wrong to Loki. Rosalie was not Hermione. Being a twin or a sibling didn't guarantee similarity or a match between a person's sibling and their match.

"Oh, gods, there's so much blood," Rosalie moaned. Loki scowled at her. "If you can't handle it-"

"I never said I couldn't," she snapped, pressing their hands against Hermione's chest with more force. Hermione groaned and whimpered.

"It's not working!" Rosalie screamed. "Why isn't it working?"

"Let me help."

Their heads snapped up at the same time.

"Dashta?" Loki asked in surprise. "What-"

"Questions later," she said firmly. She pressed her hands on top of theirs. "You two aren't compatible enough to meld to each other. Rosalie, take your hands off of Hermione and find another place to try. It won't work with Loki. You magic and his are too different."

When Rosalie still wouldn't move, the woman said gently, "Rosalie..."

Rosalie let her fingers disentangle and her hands fall, sobbing and smearing blood on the floor.

Fárbauti watched the sobbing girl only a moment, her heart going out to her. She knew that they were going to have to do a weird musical chairs move to get everyone bonded to the right person to complete a proper meld group that would work. She slid her hands over her son's and reached for his magic. It was so much like hers that she nearly cried. Not to mention the simple fact that Light Faeries had additional seasonal affinities and she knew her father had been a winter faerie...Her son was more like her than he might ever know. Perhaps then he wouldn't feel so isolated. She shook her head, focusing on pooling her energy and magic with his. The blood stopped flowing almost instantly, but the skin refused to knit together even an inch at first. She concentrated more, pulled and tugged at the strands of magic in the building. Rosalie had enough presence of mind to crawl over to Hermione and meld with her sister herself. Fárbauti fed Loki's power, and he and Rosalie fed everything they could into Hermione from opposite positions. Slowly but surely, the skin began knitting, inch by inch. None of them noticed when she had returned, but Naryu slid to the floor beside Loki. Fárbauti shifted so they could each hold a separate hand and feed him power that he could feed into healing Hermione.

Hermione gasped and her eyes flew open. Rosalie, Naryu, and Fárbauti all felt a shock that made them release their holds. A long scratch stretched across Hermione's front, pink, puckered, and angry-looking, but closed. Hermione weakly raised her hands to slide them on top of Loki's, which were trembling.

"Thank you," she rasped, "all of you."

"Always, for you," he whispered, gently pulling her into his arms again and not caring a wink about all of the blood.


	16. So Who's Afraid of the Big Bad Hulk (P1)

**The Remnant Prince**

The quotes are back! Thank you, all of you, you are all truly wonderful. :3

This next "episode" spans two chapters. Hope this is satisfactory. Review or PM me (I don't bite! xD) for questions, comments, thoughts, confusion, etc...and I'll stop holding y'alll up. :)

PS: There will most likely not be a poll for the reason I specified last chapter, but that does not mean that the poll station is closed indeffinitely. Now, without further ado...

* * *

**Ch. 15: So Who's Afraid of the Big Bad Hulk?**

_Part 1_

It had taken a Calming Draught and the soothing presence and murmurs of Rosalie to reassure Bruce for the helicopter ride to the helicarrier. Natasha led Rosalie, Bruce, and a man that had introduced himself as Captain Steve Rogers onto the main deck. S.H.E.I.L.D. agents were everywhere, all serious and busy. Rosalie stepped slowly into the room, watching as Bruce paced around eyeing the guards. She went over to him and placed a consoling hand on his arm. He looked at her sideways, put his head down, and pinched the bridge of his nose.  
"It'll be fine," she whispered.

The helicarrier started up with a lurch, but leveled out in an instant.  
"Gentlemen," a man in a long black trench coat addressed Steve and Bruce when he turned to face them and began walking towards them. He was a tall, bald, black man with a patch covering his left eye. "And Miss," he added, nodding at Rosalie.

She and Bruce stood by each other on one side of a table in the center of the room overlooking the hive of workers piloting the stealth craft. Steve stood on the opposite side. Rosalie watched bemusedly as he handed the man a crisp ten dollar bill. The man approached them both, holding his hand out to Bruce.  
"Doctor, thank you for coming."  
"Thanks for asking nicely," Bruce said, meeting his gaze quickly and then letting his eyes fall to the man's hand. Then it clicked for Rosalie. She growled.  
"Director Fury, I presume?" she said coldly. The man turned to acknowledge her, smiling.  
"You must be Rosalie Puckle."  
He extended his hand to her as well. She stared at it only a moment, took it, shook it once, and then quickly dropped it and stepped closer to Bruce.  
"So, ah, how long are we staying?" he asked Fury.  
"Once we get our hands on the Tesseract, you're in the wind," the man replied. Bruce began walking. Rosalie trailed at his side.  
"Where are you with that?"  
Fury pointed to another agent, a man with brown hair and laughing blue eyes.  
"We're sweeping every wireless network on the planet-cell phones, laptops-if it's connected to a satellite, it's eyes and ears for us."

Rosalie noticed Natasha stoop down and stare intently at a screen with a man's face prominently displayed. She looked up.  
"It's still not going to find him in time."  
"You'll have to narrow your field," Bruce spoke to Fury, "How many spectrometers do you have access to?"  
"How many are there?" the director replied.  
"Call every lab you know. Tell them to put their spectrometers on the roof and calibrate them for Gamma rays. I'll rough out a tracking algorithm basic cluster recognition. At least we could rule out a few places."  
While he was speaking, he had removed his coat and draped it across his arm.  
"Do you have somewhere for us to work?"  
"Agent Romanoff?" Fury called. Natasha turned at the sound of her name and quickly came forward.  
"Could you show Doctor Banner and Miss Puckle to his lab, please?"  
"You're going to love it doc, we have all of the toys," she informed them as she glided past to lead them down the corridor.  
"So why do they think I'm needed in here?" Rosalie asked Bruce in Hindi. She knew all too well that Natasha would be listening. She knew that Natasha could speak other languages. She also knew, though, that none of them happened to be Hindi.  
"Aren't you?" Bruce replied with a smile. "Just because you've never gotten the degree...you did have a wonderful teacher."  
"Oh, yes," she replied with a smirk, "a man of science that has issues with green."  
Bruce and Rosalie didn't mention the real reasoning of S.H.E.I.L.D., or what they assumed the organization's true motives were: using Rosalie to keep Bruce calm and content.

She couldn't help but feel a twinge of satisfaction upon hearing the barest of frustrated hiss-releases of air ahead of her. When the spy turned to face them, however, she was completely devoid of emotion. If Rosalie didn't know any better, she would have thought she had imagined the sound. Of course, they were most likely on camera, so she presumed their conversation was being recorded and translated by some S.H.E.I.L.D. agent. Most likely. Fury supposedly trusted Bruce, but she wouldn't put it past S.H.E.I.L.D. to have them on record.

"This will be where you spend the majority of your time," Natasha informed them, motioning towards the lab. Through the glass observation windows lining the walls, all of the high tech equipment could be viewed. Natasha gestured for them to continue following her. She stopped not far down the hall, in front of a room.  
"This room will be where you'll go for sleeping arrangements. We hope they're to your liking. Fury pulled out all of the stops. It's got a double with Egyptian cotton sheets."  
"Wait a moment," Bruce said, gesturing with his hand, "You mean to tell us that this room is our, ah, _joint quarters?"_

The spy straightened. "Because of her magic, we couldn't spy on every aspect of your life, and didn't know the status of your relationship, but we assumed by your behavior that..."  
Bruce cleared his throat. "Rosalie, they're yours. I can just sleep in the lab and-"  
"It's all right," she said quietly. Bruce stopped.  
"You actually want to share?"  
"Well, I have a tent if it makes you uncomfortable, but I don't mind. You can sleep in the bed and I'll transfigure something...look, I'll figure out something, all right?"  
Natasha was staring at them, but Rosalie didn't care. Bruce was gazing at her strangely. Natasha cleared her throat after several seconds of silence.

"I'll just leave you to it, then."  
She slid around them, barely making a noise as she went. Bruce swallowed and looked away.  
"Rosalie..."  
"Let's go check out your new lab, Doctor."  
She turned to walk back down the hall, but Bruce gently caught her wrist and pulled her back around. Rosalie looked up into his eyes.  
"This can't happen," he said. "It's impossible. I'm...as dangerous as they say I am. You're just beginning to establish yourself. You shouldn't hold yourself back."  
"I don't know what you mean, Bruce," she said, dropping her gaze and gently tugging her wrist away.  
"You know exactly what I mean," Bruce reprimanded softly. "You're too intelligent not to. I know you, Rosalie. I trust you. And I know that this- what you want-will get you nowhere. There is nothing to achieve, there-"  
**~"You're just afraid to let me love you,"** she blurted. She blushed instantly, turning away and pacing.  
"Rosalie-"  
"Don't Rosalie me! Don't pretend you know what I should do! **~I make my own fate**, and I say that you are being an absolute coward!"  
Bruce quieted. He clasped his hands together. "Is that what you think?"  
Rosalie stepped closer until she was a hairsbreadth away from him. "Yes."  
Bruce remained still and thoughtful, his eyes sad, his smile sadder and full of bitterness. He reached out as if to touch her face, but then shoved both of his hands deeply into his pockets.  
"Do you know what sacrifice is?" he asked her quietly, not giving her a chance to respond. "~**Sacrifice," he continued, "is giving up something you love for something or someone you love more than yourself. **It doesn't take bravery. But it does take love, and strength, and the will to deny yourself and realize that you don't every time get what you want."

"Does that mean...are you saying...Bruce, are you saying-"  
Tears were in Rosalie's eyes. Bruce wasn't smiling anymore. He traced the curve of her face, the shape of her eyes, pushed her hair back.  
"I have work to do."

He pulled his hand away, turning to head back to his new lab.  
"Wait," Rosalie whispered. "Doctor Banner, wait."  
Bruce paused, his back to her. "Yes, Miss Puckle?" he said quietly.  
"Puckle... isn't my actual surname...I just wanted you to know."  
"Oh, I know," he replied, and at that, he did face her slightly. "I've known that for a while."  
"Do you...would you like to know my real name?"  
Bruce smiled sadly. "It doesn't matter anymore. You're still Rosalie to me."

They stared at each other a moment. Bruce sighed.  
"Like I said, I'll be in the lab. Come when you're ready...if you want to."

He resumed walking.  
"Granger."  
He paused mid-step and turned around once more.  
"Sorry?" he said. "Granger?"  
"That's my true surname," Rosalie whispered, "I'm Rosalie Jane Granger."  
She didn't care about the cameras undoubtedly present for the entire encounter. It wasn't as if she existed in their universe anyway. They could run a dozen traces and never find her, and she seriously doubted that either Thor or Loki would mention her sister.

"The concept of pseudonyms is all in the mind. It's just something else to call you. It's the showing and the content of your character that tell people who you really are."  
"The same rules apply to you, Bruce."

"No," Bruce whispered, "they don't."

* * *

"What just happened?" Madam Pomfrey said, dazed, as they all stared at the swinging doors and Fárbauti emerged from the medicine closet.  
"I'm not quite sure myself," Minerva replied, hand on her chest as she and Severus exchanged a glance.  
"Miss Naryu had a vision of Miss Rosalie's friend so Miss Rosalie ran off to help him," Dobby replied, small hands clasped together.

Minerva and Severus seemed to be staring at all of the strangers on their school grounds since the door had stopped swinging and therefore became uninteresting. Hermione watched Fárbauti take Naryu's hand gently in her own. She asked her something in another language, and Naryu replied, speaking rapidly and gesturing with her free hand. Once she finished, Fárbauti straightened, and said quite distinctly in English, "We need to return to Asgard."  
She spoke to Naryu, but her eyes went to Hermione.  
"Will you accompany us? We must speak to Frigga, Odin, and Thor, and will likely end up addressing the council."  
Hermione nodded slowly. She had always wanted to go, had yearned all of her childhood. She never imagined that she would be traveling to Asgard like she was, though, in her current circumstance-and deeply wished she wasn't. She didn't want to go like that, for the reasons they had to.  
"I'm prepared to go whenever you are."

She didn't need to pack. She, like Rosalie, had fallen into the habit of carrying what she needed around with her, alike down to the charmed bag and pocket. Wars did things like that, changed behavior in those ways. Especially those of the Wizarding sort. Fárbauti smiled at her, but it wasn't pleasant. It held a grim sadness that transformed it into a pained grimace.

"Dobby would like to know if Dobby could come with you," Dobby piped up hopefully.  
"Of course," Naryu replied softly, relaxing back onto her pillows with a wince.  
"Damn Thanos. I'm absolutely useless now..."  
Fárbauti seemed to realize something.  
"The basket," she said, slapping herself on the forehead. "Why have I not thought of it until now!"  
"What?" Hermione said, then, "Of course!"  
She turned to Dobby. "Could you Apparate me to the Room of Requirement right now? I need something."  
Dobby straightened, quivering. "Of course, Miss."

Soon enough, the basket Fárbauti had brought with her sat on the nightstand by the bed. Madam Pomfrey had shooed Minerva and Severus out while Hermione and Dobby were gone. Alosa opened it and pulled out a flask of Nectar in one hand, a golden apple of Asgard in the other.  
"To your health," he said, his mouth twisting slightly. He set the apple in her lap, passed the Nectar to Hermione and held an arm carefully behind Naryu to prop her up. She reached out for the apple, hands shaking, and lifted it to her mouth. She paused once she had bitten it, staring at the bite mark as the first trickle effect of the apple worked its magic on her. Her hands rose again, more steady now that she had had some, and she quickly began devouring it. The Nectar went next, slurped desperately, followed by Ambrosia and Amaranth. By the time she had finished, she appeared considerably better. She drank a potion and ate herbs that would give her strength, and then she eased herself back into the bed, eyelids fluttering.  
"We'll leave at dawn," Fárbauti informed the group surrounding the bed. Alosa nodded once, Hermione worried her lip, and Dobby quivered from head to toe and made a strange little noise.

The house elf bustled about the ward before he went off to do any packing of his own. Madam Pomfrey offered Hermione and Fárbauti Calming Draughts and beds in the ward that night. Both declined the offer. Hermione slept restlessly, staring at the ceiling and wall for most of the night and rising early for a walk around the castle. When she returned, Fárbauti had risen. As Hermione stepped through the doorway, the Jotunn queen waved her hand over the rumpled sheets of their beds. The blankets drew up and the pillows rearranged themselves.  
"Thanks."

Fárbauti met her gaze wordlessly. Hermione didn't know quite how to feel, so she settled for going over the contents of her beaded bag. She had just done the clasp up again when Naryu stirred. Hermione glanced over to her bed, surprised to see Alosa still sitting up beside their friend's bedside. He had dark circles underneath his eyes as if he had stayed up all through the night. Perhaps he had.

Naryu appeared to be in much better shape. She should have been in store for a day or two more of rest, but she was going to be returning to Asgard that very day. She sat up carefully, cautiously stretching her wings before slowly swinging her legs over the side of the bed. Alosa watched her alertly in case she needed his help. Her feet touched the floor hesitantly, and then she stood herself up. She swayed momentarily but stayed on her feet. A triumphant smirk lit her features. Alosa visibly relaxed and Hermione smiled at her.

Right about then, Dobby appeared with a quiet crack, a little pack strapped on his back that jangled the same way Hermione and Rosalie's bags had.  
"Dobby is glad to see Miss Naryu feeling better," he said quietly.  
"Thanks, Dobby," Naryu responded. Her eyes roved to Fárbauti.  
"Now is as good as any time."

Hermione and the queen met the other three in the middle of the room. She took Dobby's hand, and he took Naryu's. Alosa set his hands apart to form the window. It grew into a view of a great black expanse peppered with bright pinpoints as a backdrop. The ground was an odd crystalline rainbow, and a few feet off, it ended abruptly in a jagged mess as if some giant had ripped a portion away.  
"It must be the edge of the Bifrost," Naryu whispered. "The window is on the Bifrost facing away from Asgard."

"Is it safe?" Hermione asked.  
"Safe enough," Fárbauti replied. "I'll step through first just to make sure."

She ducked slightly, bending at the waist, warily extending a foot and leaning out tentatively.

"There's enough room for all of us."  
"Indeed there is, my Lady."  
A tall, imposing, yellow-eyed and dark-skinned man adorned with golden armor stood looking through at them from behind Fárbauti, his hands on a great sword.

Fárbauti turned and dipped her head.  
"Heimdall. It is a day to rejoice, as you can see."  
His golden eyes focused on Naryu.

"Indeed," he replied, extending his hand to Fárbauti. She slithered through the rest of the way, helping Naryu steady herself once she stepped over. Dobby went next, then Hermione. Alosa came last, and as soon as he was on the Bifrost side of the window, he closed it.

Hermione lifted her head and gasped, catching her first glimpse of Asgard and taking her second step away from the world in which she had been born.

* * *

The walk towards Asgard was silent. Heimdall had stayed at what remained of the Bifrost, staring out into space. The city glimmered in the strange light, ancient and proud. The water underneath the raised path churned. Fárbauti flew ahead as a swift, circling overhead and shooting forward periodically, keeping watch over them. Hermione decided it best not to keep her eyes in one place, allowing them to rove around. Dobby treaded at her side, shoulders hunched and hands clasped in front of his chest the way he used to when he was still a slave. His big eyes kept darting left to right. Naryu ambled a pace in front of them, and Alosa brought up the rear.

"T'is too quiet, Miss," Dobby muttered, head turning. Hermione thought much the same thing. A pair of ravens flitted overhead. Naryu stopped, tilting her head backward.  
"Huginn and Muninn," she murmured. Hermione and Dobby stopped behind her.  
"Odin's ravens?"  
"Mm-hmm," Dobby swallowed nervously, his eyes on them. Just then, the two ravens squawked loudly. Fárbauti had circled back again. The three birds met midair, chattering to each other.

With a final caw, the ravens flitted off like comets towards the ever-closer city. Fárbauti landed, shifting back into herself.  
"Now they'll be expecting us. I asked them to tell Odin we were here. He'll probably send Thor."  
She switched from gazing at Asgard to peering at Naryu. "He will rejoice. We thought you both dead."  
"~**I fear by potent circumstance that** you are mistaken," Naryu supplied, eyes flicking away.

They resumed walking again. About five minutes later, figures could be seen riding toward them on horseback. They halted, waiting. As they drew closer, Hermione could see the leader, a muscled blonde with blue eyes, a red cape billowing out behind him. By description, she was sure who it was.  
"Thor," Naryu breathed softly. She stepped into view and began running toward the riders.  
"Thor!" she called, "Brother, I am home!"

Thor and the rest of the group, The Warriors Three and Sif, Hermione quickly learned, reined to a halt. Thor dismounted and lifted Naryu up happily in a bear hug. He held her up above him at arm's length to see her better, her feet swaying slightly and her hands on his shoulders.  
"What happened to you?" he asked, noting her gaunt appearance and the wince she tried to hide.  
"Potent circumstance," Naryu replied. Thor sat her down. His eyes were urgent.  
"I felt-on your back-"  
"Wings, yes, but more of that later. All of you are needed in a conference with Odin and Frigga and all of us."

Thor finally seemed to really look past her, his eyes traveling over the group and his expression closed and inscrutable. He inclined his head toward Fárbauti, clasping her in a hug as well. He and Alosa locked eyes silently for a moment. At last he came to Hermione and Dobby.  
"My sister spoke of you," he told the elf seriously. Then he was before Hermione. She tensed. She had never met Thor, had only seen him through his siblings and their stories, but the kindness in his eyes reassured her. He inclined at the waist.  
"Lady Hermione, I presume."  
"Just Hermione will do," Hermione asserted. She wasn't all too sure between her two candidates who had spoken to Thor about _her_.  
Sif was studying her intently and calculatingly, eyes narrowed, watchful as if Hermione might start a coup or try to strangle Odin or Frigga.

Hermione was set onto the saddle in front of a Warrior who introduced himself as Volstagg. Sif received Dobby, who shrunk down nervously before her, and Thor himself guided Naryu onto the saddle. As Hermione watched, Alosa and Fárbauti morphed into birds and took to the air.

The ride was uneventful. Hermione felt thankful that no one lingered outside to see them. Instead, they were led around to a side entrance. Two attendants took the reins of the horses once they had all dismounted. Fárbauti and Alosa landed, and together they went inside through a small side entrance.

Thor led them to the throne room. The guards on either side of the entrance opened the doors to let them inside. Odin sat on the throne, Frigga at his side. Everyone else had already been dismissed. Hermione felt her stomach clench. The doors closed behind them and were secured.  
"Fárbauti," Odin greeted.  
"Odin," Fárbauti returned.  
"So tell us," Frigga began, "what do you have to say?"  
Naryu moved to the front of the group. Frigga and Odin sat up a bit straighter.  
"Oh, we have much to tell you."

* * *

"We must leave immediately!" Thor thundered, pacing and swinging Mjolnir.

"Thor, calm down," Frigga pleaded.  
"How do we know where Loki is anyway?" Sif asked. "From what you say, there's no way to be sure-"  
"I think," Naryu cut in, speaking slowly, "that he's in the same world Rosalie is. There's another Midgard. We find Rosalie and Bruce, we find Loki. Not that they'll be together, but they can help us when we find them."

"How can you be sure?" Sif asked sharply.  
"Because I know what I saw," Naryu affirmed.  
"Oh, and now you're infallible?" Sif snapped.  
"Sif, calm yourself!" Frigga exclaimed, standing.  
"You will not harm Miss Naryu!" Dobby shrilled at the same time. Voices rose as they all jabbered and interjected, everyone talking over each other.

"Can we just stop fighting?" Hermione exploded. The room fell quiet suddenly.  
"She's right," Fárbauti asserted firmly.  
"But how can you know?" Thor persisted desperately. No one looked him in the eye.  
"Heimdall," Hermione replied, remembering the stories about the Gatekeeper she had met not long beforehand. "He would know."  
"How will we travel there?" Thor asked. Naryu cleared her throat quietly.  
"We'll feel for the right thread once Heimdall identifies it."  
"Then let us depart!" Thor roared enthusiastically.  
"Miss Naryu's brother is loud," Dobby muttered to Hermione.  
"One of them is," she quietly replied.

There came an urgent pounding on the door. Odin and Frigga stood immediately, everyone in the room instantly alert.  
"Enter," Odin called. The doors opened. A guard came in. He lifted his fisted hand to his chest and bowed slightly.  
"All-Father, my king, there are some individuals here to see you."  
Odin stepped forward authoritatively, Gungnir gripped tightly in hand.  
"Tell them I cannot see them right now. Tell them I am in a pressing meeting."  
The guard went down on one knee. "My king, they say that it is of extreme importance."  
"And what-is so important?" Odin inquired, descending the dais completely and coming to stand in front of the kneeling man.  
"They say, my king...," the guard swallowed, "they say that they can rebuild the Bifrost, that they can do it but that it will take time. Heimdall is with them now. They came out of nowhere. He greeted them like old acquaintances."  
Odin paused contemplatively. He glanced at Naryu, Alosa, and Fárbauti, then nodded curtly.  
"Bring them in."

The guard bowed his head and rose, exiting the chamber.  
"Is that possible?" Sif whispered disbelievingly.  
"But who?" Hermione whispered. Just then, the doors of the chamber opened once more. A few cloaked figures came through with an armed escort and Heimdall, two that walked at his side, one a smidgen taller than the other. Naryu and Alosa went ramrod straight. The figures came to a halt in front of the assembled Asgardians and their guests.  
The one beside Heimdall spoke. The voice was clear and feminine.  
"Hello, Alosa, Naryu. It's been a while."  
The two she had addressed looked at each other. Naryu seemed a bit confused. Alosa stepped forward.  
"Indeed it has, Skyie. Too long, in fact. I am afraid that dear Naryu was too young for her to recall you."  
The woman shrugged, raising her hand to reveal herself. She had straight shoulder-length brown hair and mismatched ringed eyes, one blue and one green.  
"I see the Sylph have come to visit," Odin said. "Are you the ones who claim they can fix the Bifrost?"  
Skyie turned her eyes onto him. Her smile appeared dreamy on the surface, but her gaze was sharp with intelligence. "You forget, All-Father, that our kind made your Bifrost. Our ancients. The group I brought with me are direct descendants of the Architects. My bloodlines have always been the High Inquisitors, The Supervisors, The Operators."

"So you would be their Queen?" Sif asked. Skyie smiled sweetly at her, her eyes glinting.  
"You could say that if you wanted to I suppose. But Ellie is our Commander. What she says goes. If anyone was Queen, it would be she."

The other, more petite figure beside of Heimdall lowered her hood, revealing a woman with icy blue eyes and hair falling in a curtain to her shoulders. She was extremely pale, Alosa being the only one present that was paler. Odin rolled his shoulders and met Heimdall's gaze. "An old man with a long history to remember sometimes forgets where gifts come from. I remember your ancestor well now that I think of it. Is she not your namesake?"  
"Yes," Skyie replied. She swept her arms wide, her palms facing upward. "We are the Great Architects. We do not usually help one race over another as a group, even if some individuals help those they wish to see achieve more than they would have without intervention. However, potent circumstance calls for action, and Asgard has always treated the Sylph well. We have no quarrel with you."  
"And it would benefit your old friend Heimdall, would it not?" Odin murmured. This time, it was Ellie that responded. Her voice was soft and soothing, disarming even.  
"It is true that he has a history with us. It is also true that you have sheltered more than one of our own as your own child, kept one of our own as your friend. They are a credit to our race even if their blood is not pure, and future Sylph advancement is ensured if our relations are cordial. Besides that, what we see in the stars tells us that the Destinies of Chadaemonah and Asgard, two of the races immortal, will forever be entwined."

The others in the group lowered their hoods at last. One had a girlish and youthfully innocent expression, her eyes bluer than the Midgard sky and her ginger hair in a bob. Another was dark-skinned, a complete contrast to the pale and nearly albino Alosa, and hazel-eyed, black hair hanging in one long braid down his back. A third was olive-skinned, eyes the color of rust and black hair wild. A fourth resembled Ellie so closely that he was quite obviously her brother, most likely her twin by their quite striking resemblance. A fifth also favored Ellie, her hair longer and full of hair clips. She was younger than both of them. The last was the incarnate poster child for a curly-cue Italian child.  
"Mari, Mykael, Hillel, Ell, Ria, and Celino," she introduced them respectively, pointing to each. Heimdall spoke to Odin, his intense yellow stare expectant.

"What say you, my king?"

Odin appeared contemplative.

"They can do it," Fárbauti said quietly. No one uttered a sound or moved for a few breaths.

"Then they shall," Odin nodded at last. He allowed his gaze to sweep along the assembled Sylph Architects. "Make it so."

"That's why we're here," Skyie smiled.

* * *

"Where's Rogers going?" Rosalie asked, looking up as Rogers rushed past the lab toward his room.  
"They must have a location on either the Tesseract or Loki."  
"Or this Agent Barton they keep mentioning?"  
"Most likely," Bruce replied. Their conversation broke off as Director Fury came into the room.  
"You have a small reprieve. We got over a fifty percent match on our facial recognition software. We believe that Loki is in Stuttgart, Germany, although we've seen no sign of Agent Barton or the Tesseract."  
"Thank you," Rosalie told him gratefully.

"Of course, as soon as our Agents return..."  
"Of course," Bruce replied brusquely.  
"You've enough time to get a few hours rest, catch a meal, something of that sort."  
"Thank you both again."  
Fury shook their hands again and departed. Bruce and Rosalie spent a few more hours in the lab. Halfway through a complicated strand of coded data, Rosalie sat back and sighed.

"Walk with me?" she offered hesitantly. Bruce laughed humorlessly, hit his hands together, and took his glasses off, palming them almost nervously. She thought he might not follow her, but he did. Bruce pushed onto his feet, running a hand through his hair, and Rosalie slid off of her stool. She cast a Privacy Charm around them and they set off.

"Bruce, about this morning-"  
"Rosalie," Bruce interrupted softly. His hands were in his pockets again. He leaned against one wall, and she leaned against the other.  
"The Other Guy doesn't frighten me. You should know that by now."  
"You should be frightened," Bruce said seriously. "I sort of-ah-broke Harlem."  
"And you've saved cities," Rosalie countered. Bruce shook his head disbelievingly.  
**~"After everything you've learned about me, after everything I've done... why haven't you given up on me?** There isn't a day that goes by that the Other Guy doesn't want to make a mess."

Rosalie sighed. "Bruce, **~I learned a long time ago that when you find something that's worth fighting for... you never give up.** You're afraid the Other Guy is stronger because he can throw cars. _You're_ the strong one, the brave one. You wrestle him every day-and your winning streak hasn't been broken. Letting him out when you need to isn't letting him win. He's a part of you now, just like you're a part of me."

Bruce remained quiet, staring at Rosalie thoughtfully. She continued. **~"No matter what you might've done in your past, I see the good in you**, all of those people back in India and wherever else you may have worked before that you gave hope to see the good in you...Director Fury does, if for his own reasons...**and... And that tells me one thing."**  
She paused to catch her breath. Bruce went a little closer to her, staring down into her eyes, his own undeniably curious. He said softly, "Really, and what might that be, Miss Granger?"  
**"~That it's in there. So if we can all see it, why can't you?"**Bruce wanted to kiss her, truly he did. But he also didn't want to be selfish. She was bright, and she needed her future, not someone who single-handedly leveled entire city blocks and got on watch lists, not someone who had an uncontrollable, raging green monster locked up underneath their skin. He could protect her from everyone but himself. He threw himself into his work. He loved it, and the people, but he also loved forgetting. Forgetting about lab experiments gone wrong, and an infamous hulking form that either had someone screaming in fear or trying to kill you. Rosalie broke him out of his thoughts. She sought out his hands, pulling them from his pockets and turning them over.  
"Bruce, I _have_ seen the good in you. I still do, and I _always_ have, ever since I've known you. The Other Guy doesn't have to be a monster. He's only what _you_ make him, and I know you can make him a hero. "

"Want to know my secret?" Bruce asked quietly. He leaned forward to whisper into her ear.  
"I'm always angry. It just takes someone like you to remind me of who I really am."  
"Bruce..."

And then she was kissing him. She wondered when someone from S.H.E.I.L.D. would come looking for them since they were Undetectable. Perhaps they thought them in their room? Or maybe Fury just trusted them that much. Trusted Bruce that much, anyway, Rosalie amended. She found she couldn't bring herself to care, especially with Bruce kissing her back and holding her as if she might break, seeming to pull her closer and push her away simultaneously. Hesitantly, the tension eased, and he was only pulling her into his arms and not pushing away in the slightest. He looked down into Rosalie's face as he pulled back; her eyes were closed, her lips curved into a blissful post-kiss formation. Bruce kissed the corners of her eyes.

"You know, " he murmured by the shell of her ear, "I think that the Other Guy might have fallen in love with you, too, Rosalie."  
"I think I love him, too," she whispered, "but I like his friend better. You know the cute one? The adorable, compassionate man of science?"  
"I'm afraid I don't," Bruce said with mock despair and naiveté.  
"You know, the one with the nice bum," Rosalie teased coyly. Bruce's eyebrow rose.

"Mm. I thought you meant the gentleman wearing glasses. My mistake."


End file.
